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y^J^^bMs^^M^^^^tf^ 


GLABIMONDE : 


TALE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS  LIFE, 


I 


B 


i^:l 


AND   OF 


i 

rca 

m 


THE  PRESENT  WAR 


1 

f - 


BY 


A  Member  of-the  N.  O.  Washington  Artillery, 


m  } 
1 


I 


/;;i: 


I 


L.  RICHMOND:  K> 

-1     J\I      \.    'I^LSlii,    COllNER    OF    14Tn'  AND    MAIN    STREETS.      ^^ 


^- 


T-         il 


a~"  ^ 


CLAEIMONDE 


A 


TALE  OF  NEW  ORLEAlfS  LIFE, 


AND  or 


THE  PRESENT  WAR,, 

By  a   MlMBlR   OF   THE   N.   0     WABHINOTOir  x^RtlLtKRT 


UlCHMONt): 
A,  MALSBY,  COKNER  OF  14th  ANb  MAIN  STREETS. 
1863. 

0 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1863,  'gk 
the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Cou^t  of  the  Confederate  Stales, 
for  the  Eastern  District  of  Virginia.  ^ 

Fiinted  by  Macfarlaiie  &  Ferqusson, -Richmond,  Va. 


-n3"^'fi.a- 


Jt^3i, 


PREFACE. 

With  some  liesitation,  the  author  submits  a  work  composed 
amid  the  vicissitudes  of  camp  life,  and  which,  in  the  number  of  ac- 
cidents by  flood  and  field,  which  it  has  met  with  from  its  com- 
mencement until  its  formal  delivery  into  the  publisher's  hands,  has 
exceeded  those  of  the  heroin-e  whose  name  it  bears.  It  was  written 
to  amuse  a  few  friends,  and  to  while  away  the  dull  hours  not  em- 
ployed in  fighting,  forced  marchinc:,  eating  and  drinking.  At  the 
instance  of  these  partial  critics  he  has  placed  his  MS.  in  the  hands  of 
II  publisher;  and  trusting  that  tiic  good  nature  which  has  hitherto 
i been  shown  to  soldiers  will  be  extended  to  him  whose  only  fault, 
after  all,  will  be  that  he  has  attempted  to  please,  he  submits  the 
following  work  to  the  reader's  indulgence. 

.h-mv  of  the  Potomac,  Fahl^tli,  186Ji. 


INiaiODUCTOEY  CHAPTEE.    • 

% 

I  had  been  put  on  guard,  along  vritb  twoor  three  of  n\^  comrades, 
over  the  provision  or  commisfiary  tent  of  our  brigade — a  post  much 
sighed  for  and  coveted  by  sentinels  who  prefer  spending  their  mid- 
night vigils  around  a  blazing  fire  to  promenading  on  a  lonely  po$t 
during  a  stormy  night. 

With  a  pot  of  coffee,  a  canteen  of  liquor,  cigars,  and  perhaps  a 
deck  of  cards,  tlie  night  passes  more  like  a  pleasant  dissipation  than 
ordinary  guard  duty.  Thus  whiling  away  the  dull  hours,  comrades 
who  have  been  little  intimate  grow  social,  old  friends  more  friendly, 
and  secrets  are  toh^,  and  confidence  reposed  which  would  never  be 
communicated  in  any  other  situation.  At  any  rate  such  was  the 
case  with  us. 

It  so  happened  that  towards  midnight  our  game  of  euchre  grew 
wearisome,  the  last  fight  had  beeu  discussed^  and  the  prospect  of 
another  debated  j  it  began  to  be  evident  t}iat  we  must  turn  to  some 
more  exciting  theme  for  our  nigh't's  amusefbent. 

Another  hour  was  spent  in  recounting  tales  and  adventure?  we 
had  read  or  heard  of,  by  which  time  we  had  grown  personal  and 
confidential,  and  the  various  trials  with  which  fortun-e  had  favored 
us  each,  were  in  turn  related. 

Depend  upon  it,  reader,  that  each  of  your  numerous  friends  and 

^ acquaintances  has  a  story  worth  the  hearing,  if  he  only  knows  how 

to  tell  it.     The  romance  of  life  is  not  all  confined  to  works  of  fiction, 

and  the  materials  are  around  you  to  compose  a  book  as  humorous, 

sentimental  and  satirical,  as  the  adventures  of  Gil  Bias  Himself. 

There  happened  to  be  on  guard  with  us  a  sentinel  who  associated 
but  little  with  any  one  in  the  regiment,  and  of  whom  almost  nothing 
was  known  except  that  his  name  was  ^scar  St.  Armeiit.  In  his 
appearance  and  character,  so  far  as  we  could  understand  it, 
there  was  absolutely  nothing  that  would  attract  your  attention.  His 
face  was  neither  handsome  nor  repellant,  his  figure  neither  gracefu 
nor  ungainly.  In  gait,  bearing,  and  general  expression  of  countenance, 
you  could   discover  nothing  in  the  man  which  would  have  dislin- 


6  CLARIMONDK. 

guished  him  A'om  twenty  others  whom  you  mkjbt  have  seen  in  the 
same  day.  Nobody  that  met  him  ever  asked,  ''Who  is  that  man  ?  " 
And  if  the  question  had  been  asl^,  none  ot  his  companions  would 
have  been  able  to  answer  it.  HisTaee  was,  indeed,  a  practical  rej^e- 
t.ition  of  the  knife-grinder's  answer,  "No  story  to  tell,  sir.''  At 
least  in  this  light  we  viewed  him  for  some  months  after  wc  were 
thrown  together ;  and  long  alter  the  mutual  foibles  and  failings  of 
the  rest  of  us  had  become  too  familiar  to  talk  of  and  laugh  over, 
Oscar  remained  as  unknown,  as  untbought  of,  and  as  little  seen,  as 
on  the  day  he  first  became  a  soldier. 

This,  which  was  in  itself  a  peeuliarity,  at  lengtl;  urovoked  com- 
ment, and  close  observers  began  to  discover  in  his  face  lines  .and 
leatui'es  that  were  by  no  means  common-place,  and  to  suspect  .that  -| 
he  must  have  seen  more  of  life  and  had  more  of  a  history  than  his 
listless  indifference  as  to  everything  around  him  would  have  seem- 
ed to  indicate;  so  that  it  had  thus  happened  that  there  was  a  com- 
mon desire  to  know  more  of  him  who  at  first  had  least  attracted 
our  notice. 

Thus,  as  each  of  us  Recounted  the  incidents  and  buffetings  of 
Fortune  we  had  thus  far  met  in  life,  there  was  a  general  disposition 
manifested  to  drag  St.  Ar.ment  in  the  conversation,  which  he  could 
not  well  resist.  Besides,  the  liquor,  singular  as  it  may  seem  to  any- 
one who  has  tested  the  whiskey  we  obtained  in  the  army,  was  ex- 
cellent. We  were  in  constant  expectation  of  a  great  battle,  and  for  once, 
the  first  and  last  time^  our  taciturn  comrade  brightened  into  anima-  ^'^ 
cion,  and  gave  us  one  true  glimpse  of  his  inner  self.  His  manner, 
iuilf  humorous,  half  satirical,  and  always  melancholy,  I  can  hardly 
hope  to  imitate  or  describe,  liut  I  give  below,  in  his  own  language, 
.0  t^c  best  of  my  recollection^  the  substance  of  his  narrative. 


CHAP^JiER  II. 

M^  first  impressions- are  oflBPiack  nurse,  with  a  turban  wrapped 
around  her  head,  like  the  tiara  of  Cybele,  who  dandled  me  in  hcv 
arms  when  I  was  fretful,  who  soothed  me  to  sleep  in  negro  French, 
and  who  dropped  mc'down  the  steps  or  over  the  banister  when  she 
"  was  herself  asleep,  which  latter  was  more  than  half  the  time  her 
normal  condition. 

My  existence  was  otherwise  embittered  by. being  plunged  daily 
into  a  tub  of  cold  water,  and  I  began  ta regard  htr  as  my  worst  ene- 
my,'when  she  carried  me  to  school,  (where  only  English,  of  which 
language  I  knew  nothing,  was  spoken,)  dressed  as  a -girl.  Here  I 
was  forced  to  sit  between  two  bouncirtg  country  girls,  who,  between 
constant  pinching  afnd  kissing,  well  nigh  filled  my  cup  of  misery  to 
the  brim.  ■ 

I  remember  myself  a^  J  grew  older,  a  Httle  white-headed,  roi\i^- 
bottomed  shaver,  early  harnessed  to  the  car  of  learning,  and  who 
drew  it,  balked  and  floundered  with  it,  from  a-b  ab,  and  b-a  ba,  to 
baker,  arid'  shady,  for  \7hat  seemed  to  him  a  cycle  of  ages.  Noah 
Webster's  spelling  book  was  a  dreadful  load ;  I  would  commence 
and  re-commence  it  with  every  nev;  teacher,  without  making  any 
sensible  progress  that  I  can  noxr  recall ;  nor,  indeed,  can  I  recall 
much  else,  excepting  that  I  was  systematically  Hogged  by  each  and 
all  of  them.  . 

In  cpjirse  of  time  I  had  learitcd  that  sit  small  boys  could  sit  on 
one  long  ben?h,  a  fact  which,  had  I  not  seen  it  so  distinctly  stated 
in  print,  I  should  have  been  inclined  to  doubt,  for  the  reason  that 
I  was  continually  tumbling  off  the  longest  bench  in  school,  whereon 
sat  five  other  scholars.  I  would  sit  dreamily  [making  triangles  and 
pai'allelograms  on  the  j5ancTed  fipor,  with  my  bare  feet,  endeavoring 
to  accounf  for  this  contradiction  between  ])rinted  statement  and  daily 
experience.  I  finally  concluded  that;  we  were  an  exception  to  the 
rule,  because,  as  I  found  in  examining  the  matter,  there  were  really' 
only  Jive  bo^s,  the  s/'.i'//t  being  a  girl,  whom  I  now  remember  as  lit- 
tle Clara,  and  who,  with  myself,  constituted  the  right  and  left  file 
closers  of  this  over-crowded  bencii.     T  could  or\\j  conjecture  how  the 


^  -'LAKlMOIVi'K. 

Muail  boys  behaved  in  the  spelling  book,  l>ut  pnicticully  1  foiuid  that 
they  were  alwa3's  pushing  and  pressing  towards  one  end  or  the  other, 
and  that  either  Clara  or  I  was  crowded  off,  and  suffered  punishment 
as  the  guilty  parties.  JjjL 

As  the  summer  days  passed  by  \i^K.'::ii  together  the  stories  of  the 
speculative  castle-building  milk-maid;  of  the  dog,  (nobody's  enemy 
but  his  own,)  whose  character  was  damned  by  an  unfortunate  selec- 
tion of  friends;  and  of  the  industry  of  the  little  busy  bee. 

Whatever  other  changes  were  going  on  in  my  education,  I  found 
that  the  floggings  and  trouncings  which  I  received  from  my  kind 
preceptors  remained  ever  the  same. 

To  the  last  Clara  and  I  v.ere  always  blundering,  always  unfortu- 
nate, and  ever  being  made  victims  when  luckier,  culprits  made  their 
escape;  so  that  similarity  of  trials  and  punialiment,  as  much  a.s  of 
character,  made  lis  in  the  end  th«  best  of  friends. 

When  one  of  us  was  in  trouble  the  other  would  testify  his  or 
her  sympathy  with  what  mute  signs  and  teiegraphic  signals  were 
in  our  po^er.  For  instance,  on  one  occasion,  some  mischievous 
neighbor  had  poured  a  bottle  of  syrup  on  a  dress  which  Clara  wore 
for  the  first  time;  the  sight  of  my  little  ally  tearfully  defending  her- 
self from  the  flies,  had  disturbed  the  order  of  the  school ;  and  as  a 
happy  way  of  ending  tt^  confusion,  she  had  been  sentenced  to  stand 
in  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  room,  before  her  mocking  playmates. 
/saw  that  she  looked  at  me  for  some  signs  of  condolence,  and  hoping 
that  I  was  concealed  bv  the  door  from  the  observation  of  our 
teacher,  I  ventured  to  write  on  the  wall,  bending  on  my  seat  with 
my  knees,  in  characters  large  enough  for  her  to  read — /  love  you., 
Clara. 

•  But  from  this  absorbing  occupation  I  was  rudely  aroused.  A 
shower  of  blows  was  fast  descending  on  i^y  quivering  shoulders ;  I 
was  jerked  up  by  the  collar,  and  made  to  dance  first  on  ong  leg  arfd 
then  on  the  other;  and  in  th(^  end  I  found  that  I  had  need  of  as 
much  sympathy  as  I  hadgivcn. 

Well  do  I  remember  the  lAst  day  wc  played  together  as  children. 
The  term  had  closed,  and  it  had  been  announced  that  we  were  to 
have  a  little  party.     The  auspicious  occasion  arrived  ;  ink  spols  had 


*JLARTMONDE. 


been  scoured  away,  spider  webs  liad.iiiven  place  to  evergreen  fes- 
toons, clean  shirts  and  pants  had  superseded  ragged  trowsers  and  un- 
washed linen,  while  our  face|MDwcd  with  expectation  and  an  extra- 
ordinary rubbing  with  soap.  ^^B 

With  the  appointed  hour  tR^  guests  made  their  appearance ;  but 
as  I  have  since  found  to  be  the  case  in  more  fashionable  assemblies, 
after  all  our  trouble,  there  still  seemed  to  be,  even  when  the  last 
guest  had  arrived,  something  wanting;  a  painful  ignorance  as  to 
what  to  do,  now  that  we  had  come  together.  None  of  us  were  old 
enough  to  be  very  strong  in  a  conversational  point  of'  view,  and  for 
a  long  time  dancing  was  forbidden.  The  boys  and  girls  being  both 
extremely  difSdent  aboiit  forming  acquaintances,  confined  themselves 
principally  to  th&  opposite  sides  of  the  room,  and  hallooed  forth  their 
observations,  as  if  it  were  important  that  no  one  should  be  excluded 
JVoni  their  beneficial  efiect.  Occasionally  some  modest  youth,  with 
a  plentiful  allowance  of  shirt  collar,  would  be  forced  into  receiving 
cin  introduction  by  way  of  encouraging  the  rest,  and  as  if  fate  had 
marked  me  out  for  a  martyr,  I  was  among  the  early  sufferers.  Two 
youths,  who  were  large  enough  to  wear  coats  with  tails,  caught  me 
each  by  an  arui,  and  informed  me  that  they  would  do  me  the  honor 
of  introducing'me  to  the  finest  lady  in  the  room. 

I  would  have  fallen  on  my  knees  and  begged  for  mercy,  had  they 
not  held  my  arms  so  tightly  as  to  rend(*i'  it  impossible.  On  they 
dragged  me,  vainly  struggling  and  resisting,  pursued  by  a  shout 
from  the  crowd  I  was  leaving,  and  welcomed  with  suppressed  laughter 
by  the  one  towards  which  I  was  advancing.  Reaching  the  belle 
of  the  evening,  some  words  were  muttered,  the  import  of  which  I 
did  not  understand,  m^  legs  were  tripped  from  under  me,  I  was 
thrust  in  a  seat  by  the  side  of  this  lady,  and  with  a  farewell  glance 
and  .a  threatening  jesture,  which  hinted  that  I  had  better  stay  where 
i  was  if  t  knew  what  was  good  for  me,  my  tormentors  left  me  to  my 
fate. 

i  had  at  first  a  v,'ild  idea  of  jumping  out  of  a  twp  story  window, 
which  was  just  behind  me ;  but  my  newly  made  acquaintance  show- 
ed so  much  composui-e  in  her  manner,  that  I  began  to  feel  reassured ; 
besides,  she  struck   me  as  being  the  most  beautiful  young  lady  in 


lU  I'LARIMONDE.  , 

the  world,  and  her  dross,  thoiigh  simpie  enough,  I  Ihous^ht,  might 
have  been  that  of  a  princess."' , jBiere  were  some  flowers  in  her  bo- 
som; I  wondered  if  these  grew''tfflfi|^ut  did  not  feel  bold  enough 
to  ask.  She  contrived  to  draw-n^^^Ko  conversation,  and  listened 
with  great  good  nature  to  what  iSHKccount  I  had  to  give  of  my- 
seir,  but  I  still  continued  to  regard  her  with  a  superstitious  feeling 
of  awe.  To  complete  my  happiness,  when  one  of  my  introducers 
returned,  and  alluded  to  my  presentation  as  a  capital  joke," she 
thanked  him  coldly  for  having  brought  her  such  good  company,  and' 
continued  her  conversation  with*  me. 

Finding  at  length  that  tlie  boys  were  becoming  more  and  more 
noisy,  as  that  the  party,  about  which  jve  had  so  long  dreamed,  was 
a  drag,  Old  Slapper,  for  thus  was  our  teacher  called,  at  length  al- 
lowed us  to  wind  up  the  day's  festivities,  .with  a  reel,  an'd  pres^ently 
we  heard  him  tuning  the  harsh  strings  of  his  old  violin.  With  my 
new  protectress  for  my  partner,  my  happiness  was  at  its  climax.  It 
is  true  I  felt  a  slight  tinge  <5f  remorse  that  I  was  not  with  Clara, 
but  I  was  somewhat  .consoled  to  observe  that  she  was  dancing  very 
gaily  without  me. 

>  I  should  perhaps  have  mentioned  before  that  the  boys  of  our 
academy  were  to  appear  at'the  party  in  white  pants,  but  that,  owing  to 
somedelay,  mine  had  not  been  finished  at  therequired  time.  Indeed, 
not  much  more  had  beeii  done  towards  making  them  than  putting- 
in  what  I  believe  is  known  as  basting  stitches.  ^  This  did  not,  how- 
ever, deter  me  from  going  and  wearing  them,  and,  indeed,  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  their  frail  tt^xturo  half  an  lionr  after  putting 
them  on. 

Meanwhile  the  dance  was  progressing,  and  Clara,  wild  and 
imprudent  as  ever,  who  had  taken  the  prize  at  the  dancing  school, 
and  who  I  fear  must  have  taken  a  skss  of  champagne  that  evening, 
was  dancing  as  if  mad.  .  Be  that  as  it  may,  when  her  turn  came,  as 
she  started  at  the  upper  end  of  the  reel,  cried  out  that  she  would 
*how  us  how  she  could  imitate  an'engine,  put  on  steam,  sachezed  right 
and  left  through  the  smialler  dancers,  upsetting  them  at  every  turn. 

All  of  the  evening  her  elderly  chaperone  had  been  eyeing  her 
movements  with  an  impatience  which  increased  every  moment,  and 


OLAKIMOXDE.  11 

■  ■  w  this  lady  indignantly  ordered  Clara  to  follow  her  to  the  car- 
•iage.  Upon  this,  Clara,  putting  oh  still  more  steam,  executed  that 
•apid  backwardpoi^  vrTiich  t^ttinated  the  danscuse^  perfor^mance  in 
■A  theatre  just  as  the  curtain  ^^Biit  to  fall,  and  with  a  magnificent 
bow,  bade  adieu  to  the  festiv^WRif  the  evening. 

,''  Poor  Clara,  won't  she  get  it,  though/'  I  murmured  to  myself;  but 
undeterred  by  her  fate,  and  anxious  to  take  a  sort  of  Terpsichorean 
revenge  on  the  crowd  who  had  witnessed  her  disgrace,  I  started 
down  the  reel  with  my  partner ;  and  I  fear  had  soon  forgotten  lier  to 
execute  some  pas  seuls  of  my  own.  It  was  not  long  before  I  had, 
in  accomplishing  these,  turned  around  so  often,  and  had  drifted  and 
"danced  so  far  away  irom  her,  that  it  was  only  by  the  most  herculean 
•  efiforts  and  extravagant  figures,  that  I  was  subsequently  enabled  to 
regain  my  place,  in  doing  which,  I  had  inadvertently  trod  upon  the 
miniature  feet  of  the  Cinderillas,  and  ground  my  boot  heel  upon  the 
"light  fantastic  toes"  of  the  wliole  line  of  dancers. 

What  I  might  not  have  further  done  I  am  unable  to  say,  a:>  i  now 
I)ogan  to  be  conscious  that  all  was  not  right,  and  that  my  appearance 
li'ad  become  the  subject  of  general  mirth.  Vainly  did  I  endeavor 
to  di^ne  the  cause,  fjister  and  faster  did  I  dance,  when  suddenly 
hearing  the  snapping  of  a  thread,  1  glanced  downwards. 

With  the  feelings  of  a  sailor  who  finds  that  his  vessel  is  rapidly 
going  to  pieces,  I  discovered  that  my  pants  were  fluttering  wildly 
in  the  breeze,  and  dangled  about  niykgs,as  if  merely  attached  by  a 
spell.  I  h«|no  time  to  finish  my  dance,  or  stand  upon  the  order  of  my 
going,  but  sideling  and  shuffling,  in  double-quick  time  towards  the 
door,  T  seized  the  first  cap  I  'could  lay  my  hands  upon,  and  ran 
home  as  fast  as  my  feet  would  carry  me. 

All  of  this  time  I  had  been  living  in  an  old  plantation  house 
for  the  -oenefit,  as  my  mother  said,  to  bt)  derived  from  the  purr 
country  air;  but  much  more,  as  1  have  since  learned,  from  her 
indifi'erence,  not  to  say  dislike  of  children.  But  a^?  I  was  now  to 
return  to  New  Orleans,  in  which-  was  my  family  abode,  it  becomes 
necessary  that  I  should  give  yo.u  .some  account  of  my  parents  before 
]^  proceed  farther  with  my  own  iuimcdiatc  history. 


CHAPTJfiilHi 


TJ|jf[] 


When  Louisiana  was  under  tnPPrench  government,  my  father 
held  a  title,  and  boasted  a  polysyllabic  name.  His  rank,  upon, its 
^ession  to  the  United  States,  he  renounced  to  become  an  American 
citizen,  and  his  name,  perhaps,  as  another  evidence  of  his  republi- 
can principles,  he  eliminated- of  most  of  its  long  sounding  syllijbles. 
A  courtly  old  gentleman,  with  large  black  eyebrows  and  grey  hair, 
was  my  father.  His  business  in  life  was  to  do  nothing,  gracefully, 
and  to  spend  the  income  of  an  immense  estate,  and  finally  the  estate 
itself,  in  prodigal  profusion.  He  would,  for  instance,  give  away  a 
magnificent  residence  to  some  passing  prima  donn^,  in  cases  where, 
as  my  mother  thought,  a  bouquet  would  have  sufficiently  evinced 
his  admiration;  and  the  loss  of  a  mile  of  street  lots  was  sometimes 
the  result  of  a  single  night's  amusements.  The  same  magnificent 
profusion  v^as  preserved  throughout  the  establishment,  or  I  should 
rather  use  the  plural  form,  as  his  residence  in  the  country  cnlygavc 
a  larger  field  for  the  exercise  of  bis  princely  extravagance. 

He  was  not,  of  a  nature  to  grow  old,. and  had  his  years  numbered 
the  patriarchal  time,  he  wOuld  have  received  the  burden  under  pro- 
test, and  stili  have  made  some  youthful  show  against  wrinkles  and 
old  age. 

But  thus  long,  or  indeed  tJie  ordinary  span,  he  was  not  destined 
to  live.  The  tastes  that  I  have  mentioned,  cost  himjjfcis  fortune. 
There  was  another,  which  resulted  in  his  death. 

"While  dancing  gaily  .through  .life,  shrugging  his  aristocratic 
shoulders  at  its  many  ills,  and  distilling  pleasure  from  every  source, 
without  much  troubling  his  digestion  as  to  its  effect  upon  those  who 
might  come  after  him,  the  pitiless  fates  who  apportion  to  each  of  us 
the  number  of  our  days  and  hour.i,  had  summoned  him  to  the  realm 
of  shades. 

For,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  dueling  was  much  in  voguej 
and  nothing  was  thougKt  more  proper  than  to  shoot  your  man  be- 
fore breakfast.  In  this,  among  other  accomplishments,  my  father 
greatly  excelled — was  familiar  with  the  temper  of  cwordp^  expert  \v 


CLAKiMONDE.  •  J  ^  • 


(he  use  of  hair  triggers;  and^  in  short,  understood  his  business  so 
•well,  that  for  him  .to  engage  in  an  affair  of  honor  and  kill  his  anta- 
aronist  was  thou2:ht  to  be  a  matter  of  course. 

But  it  is  time  T  should|d«|eak  of  my  respected  mother.  If  my 
father  had  to  have  his  littWpleasures,  it  was  none  the  less  necessary 
that  she  should  have  hers.  She  had  been  a  reigning  beauty  in  her 
day,  apd  as  numerous  a  train  of  admirers  she  still  possegsed,  (she 
regarded  them  in  the  light  of  property,)  as  many  rivals,  witjji  half 
her  age  and. twice  her  remaining  attractions.  But  the  preservation 
of  this  power,  which  every  day  became  more  difficult,  required  her 
consummate  skill  and  addres.-^,  particularly  in  the  art  of  the  toilet  •, 
and,  then,  too,  as  innocence  will  be  traduced,  in  spite  of  the  utmost 
finesse  in  silencing  envious  tongues,  she  had,  as  a  last  resort,  the 
Correct  sword  and  pistol  practice  of  my  father.  * 

Thus  strongly  fortified,  my"  poor  mother  found  the  world  at  her 
ffeet.  and  save  an  occasional  timid  whisper,  no  sign  of  mutiny  among 
her  overawed  subjects.  Not  to  know  her,  argued  yourself  unknown, 
and  in  spite  of  many  ugly  rumors,  and  suspected  bremches  on  her 
part,  of  the  conventional  codo,  she. could  go  where  she  pleased,  and 
receive  the  flattery  of  her  admirers  in  the  most  fashionable  saloons. 
No  dehutantc  could  hope  for  a  success  without  her  encouraging 
smile,  deputations  crumbled  beneath  the  weight  of  hei*sarcasm, 
and  her  delicate  railery  could  banish  as  effectually  as  an  imperial 
ukase-.     She  was,  indeed,  recognized  and  regarded  as  a  power. 

But  of  her,  as  of  other  despotic  rulers,  the  world  at  length  grew 
weary,  and  her_  pcfwer  first  (juestioned,  was,  in  the  end,  resisted. 
Only  an  opportui>ity  was  wanting  for  her  influence  to  pass  away 
forever. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  when  the  visit*  of  some  live  prince  be- 
,came  the  ovtjnt  of  the  season.  Of  course  there  was  to  be  a  ball  in 
his  honor,  and  of  course  everybody  wished  to  go.  To  obtain  a  ticket 
was  a  question  of  fashionable  standing,  and  to  fail  in  receiving  one 
was  regarded  )lf^  many  as  a  blow  little  less  than  the  loss  of  fortune. 
So  thought,  at  least,  my  mother,  who  began  to  see  the  difficulties  of 
her  position,  and  accordftigly  all  of  her  seductive  arts  which  had 


il  .    "  CLAKiMO.XDE. 

never  Jiitherto  failed,  were  brought  to  bekr  upon  the  ticket- cUspeiiiiiug 
committee. 

The  important  night  at  length  arrived,  the  costly  tnurnure  which 
the  over-confident  lady  was  .to  wear  li;iiy|nL:  since  been  brought  in, 
and  still  no  card  of  invitation.  But  uo^ie  ever  dispairs  of  an  event 
upon  which  our  happiness  depends;  and  hour  by  hour  glided  by 
without  her  .resigning,  in  anywise,  her  intention  of  dancing;  with 
the  Pipnce.  It  was  not  until  the  notes  of  the  band,  borne  faintly  to 
her  ear  above  the  noise  and  confusion  of  the  city,  announced  that 
the  assenfbly  was  about  to  be  opened, 'did  my  mother  admit  to  her- 
self that  she  had  failed. 

Yes,  the  festivities  of  the  ball,  which  she  had  fondly  hoped  the 
Prince  would  open  with  herself  anti  for  the  dance,"  Trere  now  com- 
mencing, and  she  not  even  present!  Oh,  horror  I  oh,  misery  I  She 
saw  before  her  the  inevitable  loss  of  her  power,  and  it  was  not  until 
my  father  gave  orders  for  his  dueling  pistols  to  be  cleaned,  that  she 
could  be  kept  from  fainting  in  his  arms. 

A  name  was  now  selected  by  lot  ffom  the  number  of  those  who 
coinposed  the  committee,  a  challenge  sent,  and  at  daylight  the  next 
morning  there  was  a  hostile  meeting  between  the  party  whose  name 
was  drawn  and  my  father.  But  this  time,  as  if  the  gods  had  refused " 
all  succor  to  my  mother's  sinking  cause,  it  was  my  father,  and  not 
as  everybody  had  expected,  his  antagonist,  who  was  -brought  home 
on  the  fatal  litter.  .  He  had  only  time  to  declare  the  manner  in 
which  his  body  should  be  laid  out,  and  intimate  a  j^reference  for  a 
rosewood  coffin,  befor.e  he  breathed  his  last. 

Though  this  blow  was  all  that  w'as  wanting  to  affect  the  complete 
loss  of  her  position  in  society,  my  poor  mpther  did  not  cease  to  strug- 
gle. But  I  shall  only  stop  here  to  mention  her  last  a^pearanrc  in 
public,  and  hasten  on  to'  what  concerns  my  own  life.  .  • 

It  was  a  night  during  the  season  that  the  yellow  fever  was  daily 
•numbering  its  victims  by  hundreds.  Death  was  abroad  everywhere, 
but  the  evening  was  so  soft  as  to  tempt  her  and  a  party  of  congenial 
spirits  to  a  ride  over  the  shell  road — that  famous  avenue,  bordered 
with  groves,  and  which  terminated  a  few  miles  from  New  Orleans, 
at  LaksPou6fiartrain.  Only  the  midiiighf  vigil  lampi^sh^ne  through 


Cl/AIUMUNDI;.  ^  1;> 

the  istreets,  and  alonrr  the  road,  and  nmi<^ht  disturbed  the  silence  of 
the  hour,  save  the  slow  rumbling  of  the  hearse's  wheels,  an  occa- 
sional shriek  from  some  departing  soul  in  the  last  agonies  of  death, 
or  the  forced  merriment  o%the  revellers  themselves. 

One  might  have  supposed-  that  they  were  bent  on  some  such  mis- 
sion as  that  of  the  Memphians.  who,  carried  at  midnight  the  bodies 
of  their  dead  across  the  lak%  that  bordered  their  city.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  only  the  ordinary  search  after  pleasure,  and  an  attempt 
to  leave  behind  the  gloomy  atmosphere  of  death. 

j^rrived  at  the  l;tke,  a  supper  of  wines  and  coitly  dishes  was  or- 
dered, which  it  was*thought  would  add  to  the  hilarity  of  the  party  ^ 
but  it  did  not.  Th^n  followed  bachinal  songs  and  others  in  which 
an  attempt  was  made  to  set  death  at  defiance,  but  which  were  more 
inexpressibly  melancholy  than  any  funeral  dirge.  But  the  gaiety  of 
the  party  was  too  obviously  assumed;  and  at  length,  wearied  with 
what  produced  only  sickening  disgust,  my  mother,  who  was  the 
ruling  spi;;it,  and  who  now  realized,  for  the  first  time,  that  she  was 
growing  old,  reluctantly  gave  her  consent  to  return  home. 

It  was  nonq  too  soon-^thc  seeds  of  disease"  began  to  betray  them- 
selvef;  before  the  party  separated;  and  ere  the  close  of  the  succeed- 
ing day,  my  poor  mother  was  borne  a.  corpse,  yellow  and  spotted^ 
by  the  black  horses,  to  her  final  resting  plUce. 


•     •       CHAPTER  IV. 

Thus  sadly  terminated  tlie  lives  of  my  parents;  and  I,  who  was 
of  so  tender  and  thoughtless  an  age,  thnt  I  was  playing  ''  hide  and 
seek"  the  very  day  of  the  funeral,  was  Jeft  orphaned  and  friendless, 
and  for  aught  that  I  or  any  one  around  me  knew,  without  any  near 
relation.  Indeed,  the  city  was  so  deserted  by  its  inhabitants,  that 
for  many  days  there  could  be  found  no  curator  or  administrator,  to 
take  charge  of  the  household  or  myself;  and  «ach  domestic  or  de- 
pendant did  what  seemed  right  in  his  own  eyes. 
.  From  this  melancholy  situation  I  was  at  length  rescued  by  the 
kindness  of  Pere  Grivot,  my  mother's  confessor;  for  the  good  lady, 
in  spite  of  her  worldliness,  never  altogether  lost  sight  of  what  she 
was  pleased  to  term  her  religion.;. and  unburthened  herself  of  her 
sing,  with  the  utmost  regularity.  To  the  house,  then,  of  Father 
Grivot,  I  was  now  taken,  and  installed  as  enjant  de.  choir,  or  choris- 
ter of  his  church,  until  some  one  should  step  forth  as  my  proper 
guardian.  My  duties  were  to  ring  the  bell  at  early  dawn  for  ma- 
tins, to  light  the  wax  tapers  on  the  altar,  to  attend  at  mass,  and 
assist  at  funerals.  Indeed,  this  last  duty  was  the  most  important  of 
my  services,  occupied  most  of  my  time,  and  brought  in  sufficient 
revenue  to  maintain  mC' — it  being  the  custom  "for  the  church  to 
charge  for  funerals,  according  to  the  number  of  priests  and  choris- 
ters present — ^and  the  fund  thus  r#sed,  after  deducting  the  expenses 
of  the  vicarage,  to  divide  among  those  officiating. 

There  were,  I  need  not  say,"  other  choristers  of  my  own  age,  and 
these,,  with  myself,  were  left  to  our  own  resources,  after  the  perform- 
ance of  the  before  specified  duties.  We  lived  well  and  were  clothed 
well,  and  had  an  opportunity  of  making  some  progress  in  learning — 
those  of  us,  at  least,  who  showed  sufficient  inclination  for  study  to 
invite  encouragement.  But  the  time  of  my  youthful  associates"! 
soon  found  to  be  otherwise  employed.  Whether  through  a  natural 
tendency  to  vice,  or  because  wc  were  so.  constantly  going  through 
the  forms  of  religion,  that  it  came  at  iQngth  to  be  forgotten  that 
\hey  had  any  meaning;*  yet,  so   it  was,  that  the  solemnities  which 


inspired  me  only  with  a  sentiment  of  awe,  seemed  to  be  regarded  by 
them  as  a  monotonous  and  wearisonie  business.  They  practiced 
their  jokes  while  preceding  the  dead  to  the  cemetary.  They  would 
cause  ^he  tapers  to  expire  on  the  altar  during  the  performance  of 
services,  or  would  place  the  principal  singer,  whose  snuff-box  had 
been  previously  filled  wtth  red  pepper,  in  the  embarrassing  situation 
of  being  compelled  to  chaunt  a  requiem,  while  tormented  with  a 
constant 'desire  to  sneeze.  But  not. satisfied  with  thus  disregarding 
religion  themselves,  they  had  learned  to  profit  by  the  devotion  of 
others,%nd  the  money  obtained  from  devout  elderly  la,dies,  they  lost 
or  won  from  each  other  in  games  of  chance. 

I  was  sufficiently  old  and  thoug^itfal  to  understand  that  in  the 
life  I  "gras  commencing  there  was  no  future  before  me,  and  that  my 
prospect  had  undergdne  a  disastrous  eclipse.  With  a  natural  tem- 
perament inclining  to  melancholy,  and  saddened  by  the  tragic  scenes 
to  which  I  have  briefly  alluded,  I  could  take  but  little  interest  in 
the  livelier  amusement  of  ray  companions.  My  time. passed  as  in  a 
sad  dream,  in  listening  to  the 'heavy  tones  of  the  organ,  in  gazing 
at  the  frescoes  and  paintings  on  ^the  walis^  or  in  wondQriug  at  the 
ever  varying  crowds  who  were  constantly  entering  and  departing. 
Sometimes  I  would  brood  in  a  childish  sort  of  way  over  the  sofemn 
scene  that  were  transpiring'around  me — -at  the  happiness  of  the  "bri- 
dal party,  quicklj^  to  be  succeeded  by  the  desolatioj,7S  of  the  funeral 
cortege — the  indifl'erence  of  the  voung  to  religion,  and  the  tardy  de- 
votion of  those  who  had  grown  too  old  t(fsin.  But  the  soulless  mirth 
of  my  companions  jarred  harshly  on  such  reveries,  and  doubtless 
created  somewhat  the  same  feeling  in  me.  And  if  you  sometimes 
find  ^hat  I  am  callous  to  what  should  be  held  most  sacred,  remem- 
ber the  Associations  of  my  early  youth,  and  thank  your  kinder  stars 
that  you  were  reared  tinder  better  auspices. 

One  day,  while  pursuing  some  study  under  the  direction  of  one 
of  the  younger,  priests,  who  resided  at  the  house  of  Pere  Grivot, 
there  was  ushered  into  the  room  in  v/hich  we  were  sitting,  a  stran- 
ger, who  inquired  for  the  Pere.  I  had  before  remarked  his  pre- 
sence at  the  church  on  gala  days  and  at  high  mass,  and  had  heard 
from  the  conversation  of  those  around  me,  that  he  bclonircd  to  that" 


18  t  TLARIM.OKDE. 

pleasure-seeking  class,  who  came  with  some" less  pious  motive  than 
to  contribute  to  the  support  of  the  ministers  of  the  church. 

Eis  dress,  fi;iurs  and  general  features,  were  unmistakably  those  of 
a  Creole  j  and  I  knew  before  I  heard  him  speak  that  he  would  com- 
mence the  conversation  in  French.  (Indeed,  the  latter  language 
was  then,- and  to  a  considerable  extentstill  isf  the  ordinary  language 
of  the  cify  and  State,  and  the  only  one  with  which  1  was  then,  in 
spite  of  my  experience  at  the  country  school,  much  familiar.)  Oth- 
erwise, he  appeared  to  be  a  man  of  the  world,  past  the  maturity  of 
life,  selfish,  sensual  and  cynical.  •  * 

.He  had  just  returned  from  Paris,  I  .soon  heard  him  say,  in  the 
course  of  a  conversation  with  Father  Grivot;  arxl  what  brought  him 
to  pay.  the  present  visit,  was  the  purchase  of  a  lot  in  the  cen^jetery, 
connected  with  the  church.  This  business  required  little  time  to 
adjust.  •  • 

"But  whom  have  you  here — some  novice  that, you  have  picked 
up  out  of  the  gutter?''  said  he,  alluding  tome.  ^  f  Come  here, 
7na  hmne  anye.-  Too  handsome  by  half,  Father,  unless  you 
wish  him  to  prove  the  ruin  instea4  of  the  salvation  of  the  feebler 
sex.'' 

"l^ou  might  well  think  him  an  angel,  did  you  hear  him  sing. 
Heaven  forbid  that  he  should  ever  Income  a  snare  to  any  of  the 
weak  daughters  of  the  earth.  But  Oscar  is  a  good  boy,  and  comes 
of  a  good  family,  too.  Poor  souls,  tiis  father  and  mother,  are  not 
only  dead,  but  died  bankrupt  in  position,  wealth,  and  all  that  makes 
life  dear.  There  was  but  little  left  'them  in  this  world  -ft^hen  they 
quitted  it." 

''Possible?  No  friends,  connection,  or  means  of  support  ieft 
3Ia  foi,  a  very  proper  time  to  die.  Yes,  a  fortune  is  very*seldom 
sufficient  for  uur  own  wants,  much  less  for  those  who  come 
after." 

''And  so,"  continued  the  good  Pere,  "  as  there  was  none  left,  to 
care  for  him;  and  as  his  mother,  in  spite  of  her  many  transgressions, 
died  in  "the  bosom  of  the  church,  he  naturally  fell  under  our  cai-e* 
May  Heaven  and  the  pious  instructions  he  will  here  receive,  enable 
liim  to  avoid  the  errors  of  those  who  have  ;ronc  before  him." 


I 


CLARIMONDE.  19 

"Your  account  interests  me  much,"  said  the' stranger,  with ,  a 
slight  yawn,  as  he  prepared  to  go.  "  But  you  have  not  yet  told  fte 
the  name  of  jour  protege.  I  had  almost  fancied,  from  a  similarity 
of  feature,  (were  it  not  for  the  absurdity  of  the  thing,)  that  he  was 
in  some  way  related  to  my  family."  '     • 

"  His  name,"  replied  the  priest,  is  St.-Arment.  Oscar  St.  Ar- 
nient.  May  it  prove  more  fortunate  for  him  than  for  its  last  pos- 
sessors." 

His  questioner,  who  had  hitherto  glaneed  casually  at  me  with  an 
air  of  languid  hauteur,  now  regarded  me  with  unfeigned  interest. 
"  0,  impossible  !  That  was  the  name  of  the  husband  of  my  only 
sister.  Poor  Alceste  I  and  yet  he  bears  her  features  !  It  must  be 
so. .  If  what  you  say  is  true,  this  boy  must  be  my  nephew. 
Ha,  (3scar,  you  niay  fling  away"  yoDr  prayer  book,  now.  You 
will  go  to  live  with  me,  and  have  something  Vetter  to  do  than  count 
beads.     Would  you  take  me  for  your  uncle,  boy  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  look  like  an  uncle,"  gifid  I,  naively;  for  his  cynical 
look  had  not  impressed  me  in  his  favor. "  . 

"  You  will  change  your  mind,"  said  he,  frowning,  "  as  you  grow 
older,  and  find  that  you  have  no  other  than  me  to  depend  upon." 

He  then  went  into  further  details  with  the  ^re  in  reference  to 
my  history  and  that  of  my  family,  an*d  then  departed,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  I  would  be  sent  fb:  the  next  day. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Hfi  was  as  good  as  his  word.  At  the  appointed  time  m  sedate 
<'{ji'idroou  servant  announced  that  a  carriage  was  waiting.  Then  1 
bade  adieu  to  the  few  friends  I  had  formed;  the  door  of  the  car- 
riage was  slammed  with  a  great  noise,  which  filled  me  with  infinite 
terror;  and  with  the  feeling  of  a  prisoner  who  is  hurried  ofl"  to  his 
d(iom,  I  found  myself  on  my  way  to  my  uncle'fe  residence. 

Arriving  at  my  future  home,  the  carriage  passed  through  an 
arched  vaulted  entrance  that  ran  under  the  building,  and  stopped 
in  the  court-yard  or  square.  3Iy  attendant  having  ascertaine'd  that 
my  uncle  had  not  yet^nished  dressing,  gave  me  permission  to  wan- 
der through  the  rooms- tnd  gardens  until  I  should  be  summoned. 

T\' ho  ever  forgets  the  early  impression  of  childhood?  Though 
many  years  have  passed  over«me  since  the  morning  I  entered  my 
uncle's,  residence,  the  recollection  of  it  is  as  vivid  as. ever.  The 
grounds  had  apparently  at  one  time  been  carefully  laid  out — being 
cultivated  in  squares  and  parterres,  and  planted  with  rare  exotics. 
Otherwise,  it  was  adorned  with  statues  of  the  niythological  god- 
desses. But  the  statues  had  nt)w  grown  mouldy,  the  traces  of  cul- 
tivation were  obliterated,  and  the  utter  nejiligencc  with  which  the 
vines  and  tropical  plants  had  been  allowed  to  grow,  gave  it  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  Indian  jungle. . 

The  interior  of  the  house  through  which  I  was  permitted  to  pass, 
evijiced  but  little  more  care  in  its  preservation.  The  furniture  was 
rich,  little  used,  and  neglected,  evidently  of  a  date  and  pattern  long 
since  become  obsolete. 

In  short,  about  the  whole  establishment  everything  indicated  the 
absence  of  woman's  presence,  and  the  little  estimation  in  which  the 
house  was  held  by  the  owner. 

At  length  I  was  carried  into  my  uncle's  presence.  He  was  care- 
fully dressed,  and  held  in  his  hand  a  handkerchief  scented  with 
patch ouly.  After  examining  me  attentively  for  a  moment,  it  ap- 
peared that  my  costume  did   not' please  him.     He  flew  into  a  trc- 


•  LA  HI. VK^'DK.  .  li( 

mendons  passion  with  Francois,  iny  attendant,  for  Laving  brought 
me  to  his  house  without  first  carrying  me  to  a  tailor's,  and  swore  it 
would  be  as  much  as  his  life  was  worth  should  he  catch  me  in  such 
guise  again.  He  then^harged  Francois  to  be  in  permanent  at- 
tendance upon  nie,  and  to  see  that  I  gave  hini  (my  uncle)  no 
trouble. 

Whether  this  meant  that  I  was.  to  obey  Francois,  or  he  me,  did  . 
not  exactly  appear,  but  from  the  latter's  manner,  I  should  have  in- 
ferred the  former.  Henceforth,  from  his  interference  and  dictatioji, 
J  was  to  have  no  peace.  }Ie  prescribed,  I  soon  found  the  manner 
in  which  I  should  eat,-  as  well  as  the  dishes  themselves,  and  in  this 
he  was  governed  by  considerations  of  fashion,  rather  than  health.  I 
was  not  even  allowed  to  go  to  bed  at  night,  or  get  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, until  at  such  an  hour  as  had  received  the  sanctioi  of  the  monde. 
However,  I  anticipate.  ♦ 

My  uncle,  after  having  roughly  ordered  me  out  of  his  presence , 
and  at  length  concluded  to  let  me  stay^  led  the  way  to  the  breakfast 
room.  But  no  sign  of  breakfast  did  I  see,  except,  a  cup  of  cofiee. 
This  he  drank,  allowing  inc  to  do  the  same,  and  then  having  quali- 
fied his  witha^jfiiVe  ver7-e  of  cogniac,  led  the  way  to  his  restaurant. 
I  subsequently  discovered  that  no  kitchen  was  tolerated  about  the^ 
house,  owing  to  the  odor  it  diffused.  .My  uncle's  aristocratic  nose 
could  not  bear  that. 

^'  The  infernal  smell,"  he  complained,  "  kept  your  thoughts  occu. 
pied  with  eating,  when  they  should  soar  higher."  However^  I  waa. 
imver  able  to  see  that  his  ascended  any  more  above  eating,  or  the 
dull  earth,  by  the  banishment  of  his  cook.  Indeed,  my  uncle  (I 
mey  as  well  speak  of  him  at  once  as  i  afterwards  found  him)  occu- 
pietl  himself  with.the  subject  of  '^Kating  considered  as  one  of  the 
fine  arts,"* to  the  exclusion  of  almost  everything  else.  '  iNo  bigot  or 
blind  enthusiast  ever  followed  his  creed  with  less  regard  to  the  con- 
sequences; and  no  friendship  by  him  was  for  a  moment  thought  of 
with  one  who  differed  from  him  in  a  matter  of  so  mucli  importance. 

His  hour  of  breakfast  was  1*1  o'clock,  but;  lie  would  appear  in  hi:-; 
accustomed  place  at  the  restaurant  at  101.  The  intervening;  time 
was  spent  in  questioning  the  cook  as  to  the  purchases  that  had  that 


'J.:!.  •'LA^TiMONbK. 

■Jay  been  made  In  the  market.  Sometiuies  he  would  ev.in»go  Llm- 
i^elf  into  the  kitchen  with'^andkerehief  to  his  nose,  to  inspect  some 
rare  delicacy.  While  thus  engaged  he  would  seem  to  gain  a  new 
dignity,  and  would  give  his  orders  with  the  air  of  a  ruler  dictating 
dispatches.  The  restaurateurs  and  waiters,  high  and  low,  held  him 
in  great  awe,  and  would  n'u  more  question  his  decisions  in  regard  to 
food  and  wines,  than  would  an  eastern  slave  have  disobeyed  his  des- 
pot's commands.  He  knew  his  power,  and  exercised  it,  too,  and  woe 
to  the  unhappy  (/argo?!  who  was  unfortunate  enough  to  offer  him  a 
dish  which  he  considered  lov,'.  His  scowl  was  withering,  and  noth- 
jng  would  save  tlie  poor  fellow  from  instant  dismissal,  but  abject 
submission  and  an  humble  avowal  that  he  did  not  know  to  whom  he 
spoke. 

If  he  was  particular  as  to  what  he  ate,  he  was  none  the  less  so  as 
to  the' manner  in  which  it  was  put  upon  the  tablfe.  The  table  must 
be  in  a  room  large,  airy  and  richly  furtiished.  The  crockery  and 
glass  must  be  varied  with  each  dish  or  brand  of  wine,  and  before 
each  plate  there  was  always  to  be  a  beautiful  bouquet  of  flowers. 
One  servant  only  was  allowed  to  attend  in  white  gloves  and  pumps. 
When  a  friend  dined  with  him — and  this  was  an  honor  granted  to  ■ 
few — he  was  expected  Ibr  the  time  to  resign  all  will  of  his  own — all 
prefei'ences  for  viands  or  wines.  Criticism  of  a  dish  would  have- 
ondangered  his  life.  '  It  was  sufficient  that  the  article  appeared  be- 
fore him.  lie  always  served  his  friends,  as  w;ell  as  ordered  the: 
meals,  arfd-  for  one  of  them  to  have  presumed  to  do  such  a  thing 
would  -have  been  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  a  revolt,  and  punished 
accordingly. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  describing  my  uncle's  table  pecu- 
liarities, as  therein  lay  his  glory — his  phiiosopliy,  and  whatever.be- 
liefs  he  had  farmed  through  life.  Otherwise,  his  time,  and  as  I  went 
with  liiYn,  I  may  say  my  time,  was  consumed,  dully,  and  unprofita- . 
bly  enough,  in  following  the  crowd  and  visiting  the  various  public 
places  of  the  city.  He  had  for  instance  a  bo?c'at  the  Opera;  but 
the  music  was  evidently  a  bore  to  him ;  and  what  he  meant  by  going 
to  the  0]iera,  was  to  ta!k  with  his  friends,  or  engage  in  a  game  of 
rlominoes  m  the  cafe.     He  would  cenerallv  content   himself  with 


CLARIMONDE.  2-> 

glancing-  through  his  glass  at  the  other  pleasure  seekers/ and  iC 
tempted  to  stay  longer,  would  sleep  through  ,the  rest  of  the  per. 
formance.  So  that,  between  him  and  Fran^ois^  it  was  only  when 
long  after  midnight,  that  I  was  permitted,  at  length,  thoroughly 
exhausted,  to  retire  to  rest. 

For  some  weeks  after  his  finding  me,  my  presence  seemed  to  be 
an  unfailing  source  of  satisfaction;  more,  I  have  since  been  led  to 
believe,  from  disc(>vering,an  heir  to  his  estate  after  his  death,  to  the 
exclusion  of  certain  distant  relatives  whom'he  detested,  than  from 
any  genuine  natural  affection.  After  that*  period,  his  interest  les- 
sened, and  as  it  was  but  too  evident  that  I  was  in  his  way,  I  joyfully 
took  advantage  of  his  apparent  desire  to  be  relieved  of  my  pre- 
sence. ,  ' 

In  my  rambles  over  the  hou^e  I  had  early  found  the  way  to  the 
library;  a  large  room  well  stocked  with  books,  which  seemed  cover, 
ed  with  the  dust  of  ages.  Here  I  soon  learned  to  while  away  many 
dull  hours — first,  in  looking  at  the  pictilres,  and  subsequently  in 
reading  the  contents  of  those  dust-covered  tomes.  With  what  de- 
light did  I  at  that  age  read  the  works  with  which  the  shelves  were ' 
laden;  which  even  at  that  day  had  almost  become  obsolete  !  'I  be* 
gan  to  in^lgine  myself  a  Scottish  Chief— that  I  was  surrounded  by 
the  New  Forrest — that  I  inhabited  Udolpho's  my3terious  chateau - 
and  I  am  quite  certain  that  T  was  as  nnelancholy  jnd  unfortunate  as 
the  noble  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  himself. 

Af  one  time  I  fell  in  love  with  the  '^Bleeding  Nun,''  but  soon 
abandoned  her  to  pursue  my  amours  as  a  gay,  blue-cloaked  cav- 
alier in  the  streets  of  Madrid.  I  adopted  the  career  of  ji  bandi^, 
with  an  occasional  rcIa\q|^iou  to  make  a  piratical  excursion  over  the  . 
blue  waves;  1  jumped  unharmed  from  precipices  many  hundreds 
of  feet  high,  and  eloped  with  a  female  Vampyre — was  buried  alive 
m  damp  vaults,  and  cut  my  way  through  rock-ribbed  prisons. 

I  was  at  length  resurrected  from  this  life  in  a  summary  manner. 
Unfortunately,  or  perhap.s  I  t<hould  say,  fortunately,  for  tue,  my  di- 
gestive or*ans  were  not  made  after  the  same  pattern  as  niy  uncle's. 
I  was  impolitic  eneu^  one  day  to.  say,  on  being  asked  why  I  did  not 
^-at  of  a  certain  d;«h  lo  which  he  had  helped  me,  that  it  made  mc- 


.'LAKIMON  DE. 


;>ick.  He  instantly  flew  into  a  violent  rage,  and  almost  so  far  forgot 
himself  ae  to  strike  me  before  the  friend  "who  chanced  to  be  dining 
with  us,  when  that  friend  averted  the  storm  which  was  about  to 
burst  over  my  head,  by  inquiring  if  it  were  not  tinie  that  I  was  sent 
to  school.  I  can  see  the  expression  of  my  uncle's  altered  counte- 
nance even  now,  as  this  bright  idea  entered  his  mind. 

The  columns  of  a  newspaper  were  immediately  referred  to,  and 
the  advertisement  of  M.  and  Mme.  Baudoin  appearing  to  be  the 
most  promising,  Francois  received  immediate  orders  to  have  me 
transferred  to  his  care.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  make  my  few 
preparations;  and  secretly  pleased  to  escape  from  a  life  which  had 
no  charms  for  me,  I  entered  the  Pensioriawe  de  Baudoin  the  next 
dav. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

M.  Baudoin,  1  soon  found,  was  a  little,  bald-headed  gentleman, 
with  protruding  eyes,  who  had  come  to  this  country  as  a  gardener. 
Mat"  rs  not  prospering  with  him  in  this  capacity,  he  had  contracted 
a  marriage  with  a  certain  milliner,  and  tradition  represented  that 
the  institution  which  he  now  had  under  his  control,  had  been  given 
him  as  a  bonus,  upon  the  completion  of  a  marriage  with  some  one 
who  had  previously  been  the  clirr  ami  of  the  lady  in  question.  The 
world  had  looked  coldly  upon  the  institution  of  Baudoin  for  some 
time  after  its  commencement ;  but  in  process  of  time  it  came  to  be 
discovered  that  his  grounds — for  he  was  a  good  gardener — looked  as 
blooming  as  the  garden  of  th  ^  Hcsperides;  and  that  the  female  pu- 
pils of  Madame  dressed  with  more  taste  and  fashion  than  the  young 
Misses  of  any  similar  institution  in  the  city. 

Neither  of  the  heads  of  the  school  interfered  actively  in  our  stu- 
<lies ;  these  being  confided  to  subordinate  teachers,  who  deserved 
the  credit  of  what  progress  we  made,  if  we  made  any,  in  our  studies. 
Madame  we  never  saw  excepting  on  the  streets,  riding  or  promena- 
ding, and  very  gaily  dressed ;  while  Monsieur,  her  husband,  logged 
through  life  contentedly  enough,  snipping  and  clipping  away  at  his 
shrubbery,  and^ making  bouquets  for  his  patrons  and  favorite  femaft 
pupils.  Engaged  in  this  occupation,  we  were  allowed  to  admire 
him  at  a  distance,  but  in  no  wise  to  approach  or  disturb ;  and  any 
attempt  to  trouble  his  intellect  with  questions  connected  with  our 
studies,  would  be  visited  heavily,  not  only  upon  our  own  heads,  but 
those  of  our  unfortunate  teachers. 

This  was  the  institution  in  which  I  grew  up,  and  in  which  ray 
tastes,  habits  and  thinking,  and  in  short j  my  whole  character,  was 
formed  for  all  nfter  life.  Our  studies,  as  at  that  time  was  general 
in  the  city,  and  still  is,  in  many  parts  of  it,  were  conducted  one  half 
of  the  day  in  French,  and  during  the  remainder  in  English;  and 
as  is  not  the  case  in  any  other  city,  the  two  languages  are  so  equally 
u&ed,  thjey  were  epoken  by  us  with  ae  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been 
2  ■      .. 


26  CLABIMONDE. 

both,  which  tney  really  were,  our  mother  tongues ;  but  beyond  this; 
our  education  was  sadly  deficient.  So  that,  at  the  end  of  my  four 
years'  course,  I  could  quote  the  fir-t  five  lines  of  the  Greek  poem 
devoted  to  Achilles'  wrath  ;  I  knew  that  iEneas  had  carried  on  a 
classical  flirtation,  and  terminated  it  with  something  like  modern 
rascality;  and  that  the  sum  of  the  angles  A.  B.  C.  plus  D.  E.  F. 
were,  for  some  forgotten  reason,  equal  to  another  descriptiol  of 
angles.  But  bcyOnd  this  my  education  was  a  failure.  The  rest  of 
my  ideas  were  mostly  derived  from  Dumas,  Sue,  Balzac,  and  other 
of  the  yellow  colored  novels,  French  and  English,  still  less  fitted  to 
give  us  practical  ideas  of  life. 

Thus  having  to  go  through  the  fornjs  and  drudgery  of  school  life, 
without  ever  making  any  progress,  I  chafed  incessantly,  and  sighed 
for  the  moment  of  freedom.  I  often  attempted  to  pursuade  my  uncle 
to  relieve  me  from  a  life  which  was  wCrse  than  useless.  But,  per- 
haps from  imagining  my  education  to  be  in  good  hands,  because 
the  tuition  was  extremely  high,  or  from  some  more  selfish  motive, 
upon  this  point  he  remained  inexorable.  The  pleasure  of  my  com- 
pany for  a  few  days  was  a  severe  trial  to  a  man  of  his  tastes  and 
habits,  and  the  mere  mention  of  my  coming  home  for  good  would 
DC  sufficient  to  fill  him  with  fury. 

"  Do  anything  you  please  except  coming  home  to  bore  me }  I  won't 
hear  of  it,  I  tell  yeu." 

*And  these  choleric  exclamations  of  the  moment  betrayed  his- 
whole  line  of  conduct  regarding  me.  I  was  never  denied  money  in 
profusion;  my  accounts  were  paid  without  examination;  and,  in- 
general,  I  was  allowed  to  do  as  I  chose ;  but  as  to  troubling  his  ease 
for  a  single  moment  with  giving  me  sympathy,  counsel,  or  example, 
for  my  improvement,  the  meanest  scholar,  that  had  any  relations 
at  all,  was  more  fortunate  than  I.  'Not  that  my  uncle  was  a  very 
bad  man,  or  well  knew  for  how  much  subsequent  unhappiness  in-  my 
life  he  might  be  accountable.  He  was  merely  a  doubting,  distrust- 
fiil  cynic,  who  believed  little  in  earthly  good,  and  was  not  quite  sure 
whether  the  success  or  failure  of  a  young  man's  life  was  a  matter  of 
mi;ch  consequence.  But  to  return.  Having  nothing  to  do  at 
iscbool,  and  living  in  a  large  citj^  with  plenty  of  pocket  money,  w.e 


CLARIMONDE.  Zi 

at  length — that  is,  myself  and  companions — begin  to  acquire  disso- 
lute habits,  almost  from  necessity.  I  ceased  sleeping  at  the  college 
altogether )  became  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  kino  rooms,  and  reli- 
giously visited  the  Dutch  beer  gardens  every  Sunday  afternoon. 
Luckily  for  uie,  this  kind  of  life  could  not  always  continue.  The 
time  at  length  arrived  at  which  even  M.  Baudoin  felt  a  delicacy  in' 
chargine:  me  for  lessons  which  I  never  attended,  and  having  received 
a  diploma  in  Latin,  which  I  could  not  read,  I  now  had  the  courage 
to  present  myself,  with  my  trunks,  before  my  uncle. 

"  "He  (^'t  have  the  heart  to  drive  me  into  any  more  establish- 
nients  of  learning,  with  such  a  pretty  piece  of  sheepskin  as  this,"  I 
uneasily  soliloquized,  and  the  result  showed  that  I  was  right. 

Arriving  in  his  presence,  I  found  him  engaged  with  a  notary  in 
some  business;  so  earnestly,  indeed,  that  he  merely  raised  his  eyes 
momentarily  as  I  entered.  I  had  leisure  to  observe  him.  His  eye 
was  less  bright,  his  cheek  thinner  than  when  I  had  formerly  parted 
with  him,  but  his  suspicious,  sceptical  look,  remained  the  same. 

For  some  moments  after  the  man  of  business  had  departed,  he 
still  seemed  absorbed  in  reflection ;  but  at  length  raising  his  head, 
he  glanced  at  me  an  enquiry  which  seemed  to  demand  why  I  had 
come. 

•  "  My  education  at  M.  Badouin's  college  has  been  completed,  ua- 
■(He.  There  is  nothing  further  for  me  to  accomplish  there.  I  have, 
therefore,  returtied  to  await  your  further  pleasure." 

"Have  you  learned  anything?" 

''  A  difficult  question  for  me'  to  answer.  However,  in  the  classics 
we  have  read  " — 

"Never  mind  the  classics.  You  know  nothing  about  them,  of 
course — none  of  your  name  ever  did.  Not  that  I  think  it  necessary ; 
but  have  you  acquired  the  usual  accomplishments  of  young  men 
who  h  ive,  or  suppose  they  will  have,  more  money  than  need  for  the 
exercise  of  their  brains  ?  ' 

.  "  I  hope  you  will  find  that  t  have  not  altogether  lost  my  time. 
In  riding,  music  and  dancing,  I  flatter  myself  I  am  somewhat  au 
fait.     My  fencing  master  tells  me  I  have  a  tolerable  wrist;  other- 


2i<  -:LAKlM()Nt)E.i 

wise  I  can  ring  the  bell  an  average  nunibt!j[-  ul  times  in  iht  pistol 
gallery." 

"Umphl"  Dancing  and  fighting — to  shine  in  a  lady's  bower, 
and  kill  your  rival — I  believe  this  is  all  we  ever  learn.  You  have 
to  commence  life  with  the  advantages  of  those  who  have  gone  be- 
fore. You  certainly  cannot  complain  of  your  education.  So  accom- 
plished a  paragon  deserves  to  shine.     To  show  you  I  am  interested 

in  your  success,  you  may  have  my  ticket  to  the ball,  of  which 

I  am  a  subscriber.  Stay;  to-day  is  ManU-graa — it  will  take  place 
to-night.     There  is  nothing  else  to  be  said,  I  presume." 

"  If  you  would,"  I  ventured  to  say,  although  I  clearly  ^w  that  he 
wished  to  finish  the  interview, "  give  me  a  little  sympathy  uncle,  and  a 
little  affection,  it  would  make  me  much  happier.  Will  you  not  al- 
low me  to  be  to  you  a  son,  and  interest  myself  in  ministering  to  your 
comforts  ?  "  : 

^^ Par  dieiXy  I  am  not  so  old  as  you  would  have  me  believe;  and 
supposing  I  was,  Fran9ois  can  do  that  better  than  you.  Be  satisfied, 
I  will  die  in  good  time,  and  you  will  be  master  then.  *  Now  go  ;  it 
is  time  for  me  to  dress  for  dinner." 

And  so,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  I  sallied  into  the  streets,  and 
with  the  happy  temperament  of  youth,  had  soon  forgotten  that  I 
had  not  one  single  friend  to  advise  me  as  to  'the  temptations  by 
•which  I  was  surrounded.  , 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I'he  day  known  in  Xew  Orleans  as  3Iardi.gras,.to  which  my  uncje 
had  alluded,  whatever  may  be  its  religious  use  or  meaning,  was  at 
that  time  well  calculated  to  dispel  any  momentary  depression  of 
spirits.  Singular  figures  of  bom  sexes,  in  every  variety  of  costume, 
on  horseback  and  on  foot,  were  passing  to  and  fro,  and  perpetrating 
harmless  jokes  on  the  many  passengers.  But  even  in  this  city,  with 
its  substratum  of  French  and  Spanish  population  and  traditions, 
masquerading,  in  broad  daylight,  accords  ill  with  the  genius  of  our 
people,  and  is  mostly  confined  to  the  wilder  and  ruder  spirits  of  both 
sexes. 

It  is  only  wlien  the  garish  ligLt  of  day  has  fled  from  the  heavens, 
that  thc^  true  apirit  of  the  carnival  begins  to  bfe  felt  and  seen.  Lc  u; 
processions,  representing  knights  of  the  olden  time,  troubadours, 
gipsies  mingled  with  chdracterg  of  more  modftrn  origin,  once  more 
revisit  the  earth.  The  denisens  of  Olympus,  and  the  u.ythic  chu- 
racters  of  the  golden  age  are  slowly  bourne  along  in  their  antique 
cars,  and  pleasingly  intermingle  the  past  with  the  present.  Later 
in  the  evening  they  disappear  at  the  entrance  of  the  theatres,  opera 
houses,  and  saloons;  which  have  been  fitted  up  for  dancing;  and 
would  you  enter  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  hour,  it  is  thither  you 
*    must  follow  them. 

In  spite  of  all  that  is  said  about  the  commonplace  and 
trivial  character  of  balls,  and,  indeed,  of  what  you  yourself 
know  them  in  ^fter  life  to  be,  what  youth,  of  either  sex,  in  the 
full  possession  of  health  and  happine^,  can  enter  within  their  liniits 
for  the  first  time,  without  a  sensation  of  delirium  and  intoxication 
«  similar  to  that  he  imagines  of  the  blest  in  Heaven.  The  numerous 
lights,  the  reflecting  mirrors,  the  voluptuous  sensations  produced  by 
the  music,  and  lastJy  the  gay  and  animated  throng  which  are  every- 
wherf  in  motion — all  excite  that  exhilaration  and  lightness  of  heart 
which  is  born  in  the  soul,  but  onco  or  twice  in  a  life  time. 

This  I  now  found  to  be  my  first  sensation  on  entering;  my  second 
was  that  of  inlinitp.'^ndncs?;.  jtroducrd  bv  feeling  myself  a  stran^rer  in.'< 

Ik 


jO  •  CLARIMONDE. 

self-occupied  crowd  of  seeing  amazons,  peasants,  princesses,  vivan- 
diers,  and  beauties  in  ijvery  variety  of  costly  dress,  all  hurrying  and 
pressing  in  the  mad  delirium  of  the  dance,  without  for  one  moment 
being  affected  by  my  happiness  or  misery.  I  had  retired  in  this 
mood  to  one  of  the  boxes,  too  bashful  and  little  accustomed  to  scenes 
of  this  sort  to  be  ready  in  securing  partners,  and  was  looking  with 
an  envious  eye  upon  those  who  wei#  more  fortunate.  A  light  touch 
upon  the  shoulder  at  this  moment  caused  me  to  turn,  and  in  doing 
this,  I  now  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  zephyr-like  figure 
standing  hitherto  unheeded  at  my  side.  It  was  that  of  a  beautiful 
fairy,  in  half  ma^  clad  in  a  gossamer  dress,  which  shaded  rather 
than  concealed  her  form  and  rounded  limbs.  Upon  her  shoulders 
she  bore  golden  butterfly  wings.  So  irresistibly  did*her  attitude 
and  air  impress  me  as  she  stood  softly  leaning  forward  to  whimper 
in  my  ear,  that  for  a  moment  I  thought  her  some  supernatural  exha- 
lation, c 

'^  Shall  I  call  yoaiHy  good  Genius,  or  are  you  only  a  very  pretty 
mortal?"  I  said  to  her. 

"  I  am  Psyche,  or  the  Sojil,  unlettered  swain  j  do  you  not  see  my 
wings  ?  I  am  weary  with  the  world  below,  and  have  flown  to  the 
heaven  of  this  dress  circle.     But  why  do  i/ou  not  dance  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  presenticnent  that  you  were  coming  soon  to  be  my  part- 
ner ;  for  you  are  going  to  dance  with  me,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"Hum  !  Goddesses  do  not  dance  with  every  rash  youth  presump- 
tuous enough  to  seek  their  hand.  Are  you  quite  sure  you  dance 
well?" 

"  You  shall  see — it  will  not  be  very  diJEcult  with  a  goddess  for  Ji 
partner."  ^ 

"And  are  your  gloves  quite  clean  ?  I  do  not  choose  to  have  im- 
printed upon  the  back  of  my  dress^the  cognizance  of  a  hand  in  addi- 
tion tp  my  other  ornaments." 

"  See— I  put  on  a  fresh  pair  in  honor  of  your  divinity." 

"  Let  us  commence,  then  ;  but  h»  careful  of  my  wings." 

Here  she  placed  her  cheek  against  my  shoulder,  the  band  struck 
up  a  lively  waltz,  and  we  were  soon  jostling  and  forcing  four  way 


CLARIMONDE.  31 

'through  the  imaiensc  crowd,  in  sweet  unison  with  the  music,  and  as 
chappy  as  thou«:h- 1  really  held  a  goddess  in  my  arms. 

"You  do  net  dance  so  bad!  Only  you  must  not  hold  me  too 
close." 

"  I  was  fearful  that  the  crowd  would  tear  you  from  me ;  and  you 
.dance  so  light  I  was  apprehensive  that  my  Psyche  might  fly  away." 

^*  There  I  your  compliment  has  caused  you  to  lose  the  step.  You 
shall  not  ta,lk  until  the  music  has  ceased.  And  you  must  always 
let  me  go  forward^  or  I  shall  tread  upon  the  skirt  of  my  dress  and 
fall."  '  .  ~  • 

"As  you  will;  I  shall  improve  under' your  instruction;  but  are 
jou  not  Terpsichore,  and  not  Psyche,  or,  kideed,  some  maitresse  cfe 
danse  f" 

" Naughty  boy !  You  shall  not  dance  with  me  any  more!  How- 
ever, the  music  has  ceased  already.  Give  me  your  arm,  and  carry 
me  where  there  is  purer  air.     Now  tell  me  who  you  are." 

"A  marvelously  proper  question  !  Must  I  tell  my  name  to  every 
one  who  chooses  to  challenge  it  ?  If  you  are  really  a  goddess  you 
know  already." 

"  And  so,  perhaps,  I  do ;  and  you  would  not  now  have  the  honor 
of  having  me  leaning  upon  your  arm,  did  not  I,  as  well  as  my  duenna, 
who  you  see  yonder  watching  us,  know  full  well  who  you  are." 

"  Ygu  have  not  yet  shown  any  remarkable  knowledge  of  my  his- 
tory.    Grive  me  some  proofs  of  your  power." 

"Well,  Mr.  Oscar,  you, were  not  so  gay  a  cavalier  when  first  I 
knew  you.  Then  you  were  only  a  little  melancholy  priest;  but  even 
before  this,  when  you  ran  off  from  a  party  and  deserted  your  part- 
ner, I  knew  you." 

«  Well,  is  that  all  ?  " 

"Then  you  used  to  wait  for  your  Httle  lady-love  at  the  door  of 
her  school,  and  dance  together* wherever  you  happened  to  find  an 
itinerant  hand  organ.  One  time  you  were  dancing  to  the  dead- 
march  of  some  funeral  procession;  but  that,  you  know,  was  bad  for 
lovers,  and  so  you  have  never  seen  her  since." 

"True,  only  in  part;  for  I  sec  her  now.  In  telling  mine,  you 
have  also  recounted  your  own  historv.     You  are  the  little  Clara  that 


32  CLARIMONI>E. 

4 

brought  me  some  bnn-hons  ;  and  it  was  you  vrho^  coming  on  the 
eve  of  some  holy  day  to  the  church  with  a  basket  of  flowers,  fell 
from  a  step  into  Oscar's  ar.ns.  But  what  was  your  last  name  ?  Pid 
you  ever  have  any  other  besides  Clara  ?  " 

"None — at  least,  you  must  know  me  by  none  other.'' 

"  But  you  certainly  will  give  me  some  clue  ?  You  will  allow  me 
to  come  to  see  you,  will  you  not?'' 

" Impossible.  We  must  say  good  bye  when  we  part  to  night;  be- 
sides, I  am  just  escaped  from  a  convent's  walls,  and  am  now  on  my 
•\ray  home,  and  so  we  could  not  meet  any  more  if  we  would.  But 
yonder  my  friends  are  beckoning  to  mo.  I  must  leave  you  now. 
When  you  see  me  again  it  will  be  in  a  dijfferent  disguise — plain 
white  domino  and  black  itoask.     Do  you  think  you  will  know  me  ?  " 

"Impossible  to  be  mistaken — that  is,  if  you  are  bent  on  leaving." 

"Then  aurevoir."     And  she  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

The  rooms  now  had  but  little  charms  for  me.  I  could  only  pro- 
menade from  one  part  to  the  other,  and  curse  the  delay  that  sepa- 
rated us.  At  length,  after  having  vainly  sought  for  twenty  times 
the  form  I  missed  in  every  quarter,  I  saw  a  mask  issue  from  the 
dressing  room,  which  answered  to  the  given  description. 
•  "  I  have  grown  dreadfully  impatient  at  not  seeing  you." 

"  But  you  do  not  know  me,"  was  the  reply  from  a  disguised 
voice. 

"  Do  not  torment  me,  thus ;  I  have  suffere^d  enough  already  from 
waiting.  You  cannot  expect  me  to  be  deceived  in  so  short  a  time 
as  to  your  figure,  gait,  color  of  your  eyes;  and  lastly — disguise  it  as 
you  will — your  voice." 

"Well,  then,  since  you  have  penetrated  my  disguise  so  easily,  be 
it  as  you  say.  But  you  have  separated  me  from  my  party,  who  have 
gone  into  the  supper  rqom  without  me.     What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"Do!  why  you  will  go  in  with  we,  of  course.  W^e  will  quietly 
sup  together,  and  you  will  soon  forget  your  loss  in  a  glab's  of  rose 
champagne.  (Here  waiter,  your  best  supper.)  Now  you  will  have 
to  remove  your  mask,"  I  said,  as  we  entered  the  room  and  sat  down 
to  the  table.  * 

"  No,  it  has  springs,  I  can  cat  very  well  as  I  am.'^ 


CLARIAIONDE.  Oo 

I  felt  SO  disappointed  thd,t  I  did  not  have  the  heart  to  say  any 
more  until  the  supper  was  ended. 

As  I  paid  the  waiter,  and  rose  with  my  inconnue  to  leave,  she  sud- 
denly discovered  her  party. 

"  Mad'moiselle,  one  word  morp ;  I  fear  I  shall  not  have  another 
opportunity  to  speak." 

"  That  is  very  possible,  as  my  friends  are  only  waiting  me  to  de- 
part/' 

"  This  fact  emboldens  me.  AVill  you  not  give  me  your  name 
and  address  ?  " 

^'No!  decidedly  no  ! " 

"  Then,  for  pity  I  one  glance  at  the  lovely  face  which  lies  hidden 
r.ndcr  your  mask.  If  you  knew  what  happiness  it  woul^  give  me, 
yuu  would  not  deny  me  so  slight  a  boon." 

*'  True,  it  costs  little,  and  you  have  invited  me  to  a  fine  supper ; 
would  it  make  you  vei^i/  happy,"  she  said,  with  something  of  a  mali- 
cious air. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  I  replied,  with  ill-suppressed  eagerness. 

"  Be  happy,  then."     Here  she  removed  her  mask. 

If  the  sight  that  met  Imogene's  eyes  had  now  confronted  mine,  it 
would  not  have  been  seen  with  more  horror.  Instead  of  gratified 
pleasure,  I  startled  back  with  an  exclamation  of  bitter  rage  and  dis- 
appointment. However,  the  face  I  now  saw  before  me  was  merely 
that  of  an  elaerly  lady,  who>so  visage  was-  puckered  with  wrinkles? 
and  of  the  color  of  scorched  parchment.  To  complete  my  chagrin,  I 
now  saw  the  lady  whom  I  had  so^  eagerly  sought,  still  costumed 
as  Psyche,' descending  the  stairs,  and  evidently  greatly  enjoying  my 
discomfiture.  But  the  stairs  were  blocked  up  with  ladies  getting 
ready  to  depart,  and  before  I  could  extricate  myself,  I  had  the  ad- 
ditional mortification  of  seeing  her  enter  a  carriage,  "S^ave  me  a  co- 
quettish salute,  and  drive  rapidly  away. 


*     .         CHAPTER  VIII. 

My  pursuits  for  som6  months  succeeding  this  adventure,  though 
nominally  that  of  reading  law,  were  a«  frivolous  as  one  could  well 
imagine.  The  state  of  mind  to  which  I  had  arrived,  viz :  tliat  of 
a  young  man  who  is  struck  with  a  pretty  face,  for  some  unaccounta- 
ble reason  to  every  one  except  himself,'  is  of  all  others  the  most  ab- 
surdly miserable,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  .that  it  unfits  him  for 
any  serious  occupation.  Had  I  been  an  employee,  I  should  have 
quarreled  yith  my  employer,  and  lost  my  situation.  Had  I  known 
how,  I  would  have  sought  relief  in  writing  poetry.  As  it  was,  I  be- 
came a  constant  attendant  at  soirees, and  assemblies,  in  the  hopes  of 
again  meeting  my  inconnue.  My  manner  of  conducting  myself 
there  was  to  lounge  around  the  doors,  scowl  at  every  .one  who  passed, 
and  to 'fancy  myself  generally  miserable.  I  frequented  churches^ 
rode  constantly  in  every  city  omnibus,  visited  the  various  places  of 
amusement,  and  promena'ded  Canal  at  the  hour  when  the  crowd 
^as  the  greatest.  These  resources  failing,  I  took  to  wearing  start- 
ling colors  and  dressing  in  the  ruffianly  style,  to  the  intense  horror 
of  my  uncle,  who  would  fly  into  a  tremendous  passion  as- often  as 
he  saw  me,  and  indignantly  order  me  to  take  the  oonoxious  gar- 
ments off.  In  short,  my  many  ^/aitcAeries 'wearied  and  disgusted  him, 
and  he  sighed  for  an  opportunity  of  getting  rid  of  me. 

One  day  I  was  dining  with  him  jind  hi3  friends, — an  august 
coterie,  of  whom  I  stood  not  a  little  in  dread  and  from  whom  I  was 
wont  to  escape  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Soup  being  brought  on  the  table,  I  had  well  nigh  finished  eating 
mine  before  the  rest  of  the  party  had  peppered,  salted  and  season- 
ed theirs  to  the  conventipnal  pitch. 

"  Do  you  find  the  soup  to  your  taste  V  inquired  one  of  the  party, 
as  he  emptied  the  contents  of  a  cruet  into  his  basin. 

"  Very  good — very  good,  indeed,"  I  replied,  well  pleased  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  accounting  in' some  manner- for  n>y  haste. 


'^  CLARIMONDE.  ^  35 

It 

"  Ah  !  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so  ;  our  cook  is  not  generally  so  # 
fortunate  in  his  soups/' 

My  uncle  having  now,  with  much  preparation,  arranged  the  sea- 
soning of  his  dish  according  to  his  rules,  conveyed  a  spoonful  of 
the  liquid  in  question  to  his  lips.  Uttering  a  fierce  oath,  the  spoon 
fell  from  his  nerveless  hand,  and  this  movement  was  followed  by 
similar  gestures  of  condemnation  on  the  part  of  his  friends.  '  The 
waiter  was  summoned  and  abused  as  proxy  for  the  cook,  and  the 
conversation  passed  to  another  theme. 

"  This  business  of  eating,  at  Ijrest)  is  a  disgusting  affair/'  said  one 
of  the  party  sententiously. 

"  Low,  doubtless,  but  also  dangerous,"  said  my  uncle ;  "  that 
which  constitutes  its  only  noble  quality.  There  are  other  risks  to 
run  in  life  besides  those  incurred  by  charging  batteries.  If  Damo- 
cles had  a  sword  suspended  over  his  table,  it  was  placed  there  by  his 
cook.  Do  you  remember  L'Harp  ?  His  wife  would  never  have  left 
him  if  his  friends  could  have  persuaded  him  to  abandon  his  diet  of 
hard  boiled  eggs.  And  Duvall  I  No  wonder  jx  man  that  eats  fried 
steaks  and  bacon  should  die  on  the  gallows."  . 

How  many  more  instances  my  uncle  might  not  have  quoted  upon 
*he  subject  of  his  favorite  theme  there  is  no  telling,  had  I  not  at 
this  moment  upset  the  sauce-boat  in  his  lap.  He  sprang  up  from 
his  seat  with  a  wrathful  shout. 

^'  Grand  Dieu  I  You  will  yet  be  the  death  of  me  !  I  have  ate  at 
a  thousand  dinner  tables  without  such  an  accident  ever  before  hap- 
pening. The  world  is  wide  enough  for  both  of  us — decidedly  we 
must  part.  Never  again  put  your  legs  under  the  same  mahogany 
with  mine  !"    .  * 

I  made  an  angry  protest  against  thus  being  spoken  to  as  a  child, 
and  left  the  table.  That  day  I  formed  my  resolution.  I  would  call 
upon  my  uncle  once  more  upon  business,  and  then  renounce  city  dis- 
sipations, of  which  I  was  now  heartily  weary. 

"  I  have  arrived  at  some  resolutions^"  said  I,  as  T  called  upon  him 
tire  following  morning,  "  with  which  it  would,  perhaps,  be  best  that 
I  should  acquaint  you  at  once.     I  have  now  attained  my  majority, 


36  CLARIMONDE. 

and  been  admitted  to  the  bar.  I  wish  to  gu  in  pfrson  and  admin- 
ister the  estate  left  by  my  father.  My  time  otherwise  I  will  occupy 
"with  my  profession." 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish,  young  man.  You  have  only  to  communi- 
cate with  my  lawyer."     And  so  our  last  interview  terminated. 

It  did  not  take  me  many  days  to  make  these  arrangements,  and 
with  no  regrets,  except  for  the  precious  time  I  had  wasted,  I  shook 
off  the  dust  of  my  feet  against  my  native  city,  and  braced  myself 
for  another  dehut  into  life. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

My  road  led  through  interminable  pine  forests,  through  which 
the  winds  were  dismally  sighing,  or  through  long  lanes,  which  ran 
between  zig-zag  fences.  This  dreary  prospect  did  not  fill  me  with 
any  flattering  anticipations,  but  I  was  utterly  unprepared  for  the 
dreariness  and  desolation  of  the  miserable  collection  of  houses, 
which  I  had  determined  was  hcnesforth  to  be  my  home.  As  I  drove 
through  its  streets,  up  to  its  principal,  and  indeed  only  hotel,  I  found, 
that  I  might  have  as  soon  expected  to  see,  anj"  of  the  ordinary 
pigns  of  animation,*or  of  life  in  the  Haunted  House,  as  described 
by  Hood,  as  in  this  dreadful  place. 

By  amusement  was  understood  drinking  in  a  bar-room,  whose 
"  properties'^  were,  a  decanter,  a  half  dozen  broken  tumblers,  and 
as  many  spoons.  The  more  serious  business  of  the  inhabitants  was 
fighting,  and  playing  nt  the  game  of  Brag,  while  reclining  upon  the 
grass  in  the  public  square  ;*and  scf  fascinating  was  it,  that  its  partici- 
pants never  thought  to  look  up  from  their  occupation,  exceptins;  to 
inquire  "who  was  killed?"  in  the  various  fights  which  were  mean- 
while transpiring.  At  nighf  they  would  sit  in  one  of  the  few  stores 
of  the  village,  around  a  fire  of  inflammable  pine,  and  recite  and  lis- 
ten to  old  stories  of  blood  and  murder,  which  had  occurred  in  the 
place,  and  as  the  knots,  with  which  the  flames  were  fed,  would  burn 
with  every  degree  of  heat,  in  the  space  of  a  few  minutes,  our  circle 
would  widen  and  contract,  from  immediately  around  the  fire  place,  to 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  room.  One  might  have  thought  to  have  seen 
us  constantly  moving  our  chairs  as  we  listened  to  these  recitals  of  all 
thehorrid  events  which  had  occurred  in  the^  neighborhood  for  the  past 
twenty  years,  that  we  were  going  through  some  iind  of  incantation, 
or  performing  with  our  seats  some  complicated  crescent  dance. 

I  was  standing  in  a  knot  of  villagers,  a  few  days  after  my  arrival, 
when  I  was  beckoned  apart  from  the  crowd,  by  a  man  who  had 
been  pointed  out  to  me  as  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  place.  My  first 
idea  was,  that  my  professional  services  were  needed  j  my  second,  that 


38  CLARIMONDi:. 

I  would  be  expected  to  fight.  His  pants  were  adorned  with  a  sort 
of  military  stripe,  hia  blue  neckerehief  was  tied  in  a  loose  sailor's 
knot,  and  a  jockey  cap  covered  a  bushy  head  of  hair.  Large  rings, 
a  flashy  breastpin  and  chain,  and  a  devil-may-care  air  generally, 
made  up  what  was  otherVise  lacking. 

"  Have  you  brought  your  faro-bank  tools  along,"  he  commenced, 
regarding  at  the  same  time  a  plush  velvet  vest,-  in  which  I  was  *lien 
arrayed,  very  attentively.  "  You  hav'nt  ?"  (in  answer  to  a  negative 
nod,)  "  then  it  does'nt  signify ;  I  want  you  about  something  else 
just  now.     You  have  your  fiddle  with  you,  at  any  rate."         • 

I  explained  to  him  what  my  profession  was,  and  was  about  to  in- 
terpose some  plea  in  reference  to  my  musical  attainments,  when  he 
interrupted  n^e.  0 

"  Oh,  d — n  it,  you  need'nt  tell  me,  you  know;  I've  seen  your 
fiddle  case  myself,  and  old  Sprawles,  your  tavern-keeper,  says  he 
has  heard  you' play.  But  squire,  the  point  is  this  ;  we  are  trying  to 
get  up  some  fun  and  devilment  out  in  the  country,  and  I  want  to 
take  you  along.  I  think  you'll  do.  So  if  you  say  so,  I'll  harness 
up  my  team,  and  we'll  take  an  eaj-ly  start.  And  by  the  way,"  he 
added,  without  waiting  for  my  assent — "  if  you  happen  to  have 
another  vest  in  that  style,  I  would  like  to  run  it  myself" 

I  found  both  propositions  reasonable,  and  we  were  soon  on  our 
way,  behind  what  Hawkins,  my  new  friend,  called  a  "  slappin'  team 
of  cattle." 

On  our  arrival  at  the  place  for  which  we  had  started,  we  found 
most  of  the  guests  outside  of  the  house,  or  lounging  around  the 
doors.  The  building  itself  was  of  rude  construction,  the  ground 
floor  being  of  logs ;  it  having  been  used  in  earlier  times  as  a  .place 
of  protection  against  the  Indians.  Within  was  a  quilting  frame, 
iiround  which  were  seated,  and  busily  plying  their  needles,  the  girls 
of  the  surrounding  country.  There  had  been  as  yet,  little  or  no 
conversation,  or  any  sign  that  this  was  a  festive  gathering ;  and  the 
parties  might  have  been  engaged  upon  the  cerements  of  the  dead, 
for  aught  that  appeared  in  their  manner. 

A  few  of  the  bolder  spirits  displayed  their  gallantry  by  snuffing 
the  candles,  and  as  often  by  oversetting  them,  or  putting  them  out. 


CLARIMONDE.  39 

and  altogether  it  was  evident  that  the  time  for  the  expected  fan 
had  not  yet  arrived. 

But  the  appearance  of  Hawkins  seemed  to  be  regarded  as  the 
looked  for  signal.  The  men  took  immense  drinks  behind  the  house, 
while  the  quilt  was  raised  to  the  ceiling  bj  the  fairer  portion  ^f  the 
guests.  Sam  and  myself  entered  arm  in  arm  ;  the  crowd  followed  at 
our  heels,  and  the  festivities  were  now  fairly  begun.  First  there  were 
the  well-known  country  games,  which  have  held  their  place  from 
time  immemorial,  and  which  were  pleasantly  enlivened  by  the 
squeezing  of  hands,  and  the  kissing  of  pretty  partners ;  then  others 
of  a  musical  character,  in  wfeich  gentlemen  and  ladies  would  form 
in  double  file,  and  march  from  one-  end  of  the  house  to  the  other — 
Sam  leading  the  way,  in  an  immense  shirt  collar,  and  roaring  out 
songs,  in  which  the  rest  joined — such  as  Barbara  Allen,  the  Black- 
smith's daughter,  etc.,  etc.  One  of  them  was  descriptive  of  the 
farmer's  cares,  and  run  in  this  wise  : 


"  "Tis  thus  the  farmer  sows  his  ground, 
He  i'>i\(]<  Ills  arms  and  looks  around  ; 
He  wlifcLs  around  aiicl  views  the-sight, 
And  stamps  the  ground  with  much  delight." 


The  folding  of  the  farmer's  arms,  stampiiig  of  the  ground,  and 
other  gestures  described  in  the  song  were  gone  through  in  panto- 
mine  by  the  party  with  great  spirit. 

When  all  of  these  resources  were  exhausted,  there  having  been 
many  drinks  taken  in  the  meanwhile,  Hawkins  delighted  the  asseni- 
bled  gtfests  by  informing  them  thit  the  young  squire,  meaning  my- 
self, was  no  bad  hand  with  the  'fiddle,  and  that  if  such  was  their 
wish,  they  could  now  have  plenty  of  dancing. 

The  suggestion  was  readily  responded  to  by  a  quick  scuffle  for 
partners.  I  was  to  kiss  the  prettiest  girl  present  for  my  share  of 
the  amusement ;  and  my  scruples  and  embarrassment  haying  beea 
in  this  way  overruled,  a  commanding  position  was  xissigned  me,  on 
the  top  of  a  table.  And  so  matters  having  been  arranged  to  every 
body's  satisfaction,  the  old  house  resounded  for  the  rest  of  the  even- 


I 


40  CLAKIMONDK. 

ing  with  the    heavy  tramp  ol'  the  (lai)cer.o,  and   the  unrestrained 
mirth  of  every  one. 

I  sai^  the  satisfaction  of  every  one,  but  there  was  on«?  exception. 
A  saHow,  black-haired  youth,  had  seen  fit  to  conceive  an  unjust 
jealousy  of  me  from  the  preference  I  had  given  to  his  sweet-heart, 
and  0  cupied  himself  with  haughtily  regarding  me  from  conspicu- 
ous places  in  the  apartment.  I  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  the 
circumstance  at  the  time,  but  I  afterwards  had  cause  to  remem- 
ber it. 

The  time  at  length  arrived,  when  those  who  were  sober  enough, 
thought,  it  prudent  to  break  up,  an^l  the  ladies  had  retired  for 
bonnets  and  shawls.  At  this  point  Hawkins  whispered  to  me,  ''we 
had  better  be  gittin',  too,  squire ;"  but  the  advice  came  a  moment 
too  late.  A  cry  was  raised  for  a  parting  stag-dance  ;  the  door  was 
fastened,  and  I  was  soon  playing,  nolems  volens,  "  Natchez  under  th(i 
Ilill,"  as  fast  as  my  fingers  and  bow  would  let  me. 
■  .But  my  friend's  presentiment,  that  the  crowd,  always  quarrelsome 
and  ready  for  a  fight,  had  imbibed  too  freely  to  be  left  alone  with- 
out some  restraining  influence,  now  proved  true.  Faster  and  faster 
moved  the. dancers  as  the  excitement  of  the  hour  grew  upon  tbem  ; 
each  one  jostled  rudely  against  his  neighbor;  and  catch-words  and 
compliments  began  to  be  bandied  about,  of  anything  but  a  compli- 
mentary nature,  or  pacifying  tendency.  At  this  moment  the  lights 
wereaccidently  or  designedly  put  out;  my  table,  upon  which  I  had 
been  sitting  as  a  throne,  knocked  over,  and  with  such  cries  from 
many  voices  as  '•  I'm  the  bull  of  the  woods,"  the  fray  commenced 
in  good  earnest.  Pistols  were  drawn,  knives  freely  used,  and  arti- 
cles of  furniture*»in  gen^jal  circulation. 

From  this  scene,  in  which  I  began  to  regard  myself  de  trop,  I 
wUs  anxious  to  escape,  and  after  some  effort,  succeeded  in  gaining 
an  open  window.  But  I  was  not  to  be  let  off  so  easily.  Just  as  I  was 
in  the  act  of  making  my  exit,  a  hand  was  laid  upon  my  throat,  and 
i  could  hear  the  quick  cocking  of  a  pistol.  There  was  a  fierce  " 
Htruggle  for  a  moment,  and  out  we  both  went,  my  unknown  assailant 
and  myself,  through  the  window.  As  we  fell  heavily  to  the  ground, 
1  heard  the  discharge  of  the  pistol,  whleh  my  adversary  must  haw* 


CLAKIMONJDE,  -H 

ij,old  in  his  hand ;  hut  for  some  moment!?  i  wus  so  stuaned  with  my 
fall  I  could  not  tell  which  of  us  was  wounded.  * 

"No  time  to  lose,  partner,".!  ?,t  length  heariJ  Hawkins  whisper- 
ing above  mo,  who,  it  fjeemcd,  had  followed  pretty  closely  oil  our 
heels.  ''  You  have  killed  your  man,  and  you  will  soon  have  all  of 
his  friends  and  relations  upon  you." 

*' He  was  not  killed  by  my  act — it  was  his  own  fault,  if^any 
body's." 

"  Yours  or  his  6wn,  you  excited  his  rage  about  liis  swe.et-heart, 
and  he^s  as  dead  as  a  mackerel  now.  But  come,  you  must  git  iij}, 
and  git  from  this  s«ction  until  the  thing  blows  over." 

I  thought  my  companion's  advice  too  good  to  hesitate  about  ac- 
cepting .it.  I  bethought  mo  that  I  had  engaged,  with  the  legal 
gentleman,  witk  whom  I  liad  read  law,  to  obtain  in  writing,  in 
the  requisite  form,  the  depositions  of  a  certain  aged  witness,  who 
was  then  living  in  a  portion  of  Louisiana,  known  as  "  Up  the 
Coast,"  I  therefore  concluded  that  the  most  favorable  time  I  would 
have  of  attending  to  this  business  would  be  the  present, 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  next  morning  found  uie  jolting  along  mj  waj,  in  an  old 
travel-stained  coach,  walking  by  its  side  when  the  roads  were  rough, 
and  for  which  I  did  not  much  care ;  but  not  unfjequently  having  to 
carry  a  rail  on  my  shoulders,  to  pry  it  out  when  bogged  in  the  mud. 
Besides  these  little  drawbacks,  it  was  pouring  down  rain  during  the 
whole  journey ;  the  wind  would  sigh  dismally  tiirough  the  forests, 
and  everything  seemed  to  impress  me  with  a  conviction  that  my 
journey  boded  me  no  good.  When  we  stopped  foi*  refreshments,  we 
encountered  nothing  but  the  most  God-forsaken  wayside  taverns, 
where  I  was  uniformly  addressed  as  "  stranger,"  by  the  landlords, 
and  where,  when  forced  to  remain  at  night,  the  shutters  would  keep 
beating  against  my  window-panes,  dismal  accompaniments  to  the 
raging  storm,  or  vague  warnings  not  to  go  farther. 

The  eimid  of  traveling  was  at  length  relieved,  by  the  presence  of 
a  companion,  though  not  much  at  least,  for  a  day  or  so.  His  chief 
occupation  for  that  period  of  time,  was  to  project  his  head  out  of  • 
•  the  coach  window,  and  examine  the  sky ;  and  as  <f,  too  much  for 
his  spirits  to  bear  up  under  without  some  support,  he  would  follow 
■up  these  examinations,  by  taking  a  pull  at  a  black  flask,  and  inviting 
me  to  do  likewise.  But  finding  that  this  course  did  not  affect  any 
•change^  he  gradually  became  more  communicative,  and  freely  im- 
parted to  me  his  circumstances. 

First,  his  name  was  D 'Armas,  or  Be  Armas,  as  he  would  some- 
times pronounce  it,  to  make  sure  of  the  prefix.  He  was  of  Spanish 
and  French  descent^  (his  ancestors  having  come  over  with  Ponce  dc 
Leon,  or  Be  Soto,  at  least  so  he  told  me,)  and  from  his  accent,  I 
imagined  that  he  spoke  the  latter  language  much  better  than  En- 
glish. JHe  had  at  one  time  held  a  commission  in  the  United 
Htates  service,  but  had  resigned,  and  was  now  but  recently  returned 
from  Paris.  Indeed,  I 'soon  found  that  he  affected  the  Parisian  or 
cosmopolitan  style,  and  never  alluded. to  that  city  without  a  sigh. 

"  Wc  can't  3»ct  thincrB  hero  as  wc  ought  to  have  them.     There  is 


CLARIMONDE.  ^  48 

-eveiy  yariety  of  flesh,  fish  and  fruit  in  the  country,  and  no  one  that 
knows  how  to  cook. ,  But  a  good  cook  requires  a  very  rare  order  of 
genius.  I  have  a  growing  presentiment  that  I  shall  die  of  starva- 
tion." •     - 

"  But  it  seemed  to  me  when  we  stopped  last  to  change  horses,  and 
fried  rashers  of  bacon  upon  skewers,  that  you  eat  your  share  with 
as  iiood  a  stomach  as  the  rest  of  us." 

"  What  would  you  have,  mon  ami?  I  know  the  living  you  have 
liere  will  be  the  death  of  me,  but  one  never  knows  ^ow  to  die  with 
resignation.  We  struggle  on  to  the  last.  And  then,  too,  your  li- 
quor I"     Hore  he  offered  me  the  flask. 

"  Bad  enough,  certainly,  but  still  it  somehow  disappears." 
"  No,  it  is  nqt  bad  ;  there  I  disagree  with  you.     All  liquors  are 
good,  comparatively.     But  those  of  France  are  a  little  Letter  than 
this.     Pah  I"     The  last  exclamation  was  made  after  he  had  swal- 
lowed a  draft.  • 

*  "  How  much  farther  does  your  road  lead  you,  said  1,  by  way  of 
changing  the  subject."     "  My  journey  is  nearly  completed." 

"  I  get  out  at  the  old  plantation  chateau,  you  see  just  on  ahead.'' 
"  Indeed  !  then  we  will  still  remain  together.  That,  I  make  outr 
from  the  description  of  the  driver,  is  the  object  of  my  destination.' 
t^  Tonnerre!  Then  I  congratulate  myself  upon  the  accession  of  your 
/Company,  and  wish  you  much  happiness  in  your  visit.  I  have  been 
an  inmate  of  the  house  before,  and  though  the  ladies  are  agreeable 
enough,  to  tell  the  truth*,  a  hon  compagnion  is  what  you  cannot  here 
always  command." 

It  was  near  nightfall,  when  we  at  length  alighted  ;  and  in  spite  of 
my  companion's  welcome,  it  w;is  with  a  vague  presentiment  of  com- 
ing evil,  that  I  drew  near  the  door.  I  glanced  nervously  at  the 
piansion  itself,  and  endeavored  to  discern  in  its  general  appearance 
the  character  of  Wa  inmates.  Its  age  appeared  to  be  great,  and  from 
the  material  with  which  it  was  built  and  plastered,  as  well  as  from 
the  general  architecture,  it  must  have  been  constructed  during  the 
^arly  occupation  of  the  country  by  the  Spaniards,  Otherwise,  it 
was  covered  with  the  tendrils  of  some  parasitical  plant,  and  almost 
concealed  in  a  dense  grove  of  orange,  and  other  evergreen  trees. 

Entering  the  house  with  P'Arma?.,  I  wa."?  ushered  into  the  jires- 


-44  CLARIMONDE. 

ence  of  Madame  Gonzales,  the  mifitreBs  of  the  manBion,  an4  cfler 
the  usual  salutations  were  interchanged  between  her  and  my  com' 
panion,  I  was  presented  in  due  form. 

3Iadame  appeared  to  be  raflier  past  the  middle  period  of  life,  and 
to  have  moved  much  in  good  society.  Her  face  .still  retained  traces 
of  great  beauty,  and  what  defects  time  had  wrought  in  her  charms, 
were  gracefully  concealed  by  the  art-s  of  the  toilette.  Like  most 
Creoles,  she  was  evidently  but  little  accustomed  to  English;  but. 
this  was  quickly  forgot  in  her  agreeable  manners,  and  warm  recep- 
tion. 

"  The  letter  which  preceeded  j'our  arrival.  Monsieur,"  were  her 
lirst  words,  '^  tells  me  you  come  on  business.     May  I  hope  you  will 
also  make  your  visit  one  also  of  pleasure  ?     AYe  are  here  so  little^ 
troubled  with  guests,  that  in  welcoming,  them,  we  feel  only  that  we 
are  receiving  n  favor." 

^'  Madame  you  show  me  too  much  kindness,  and  during  the  shoifc 
time  my  business  detains  me,  I  will  gladly  remain  with  you." 

"We  cannot  afford  to  lose  you  soon.  Monsieur.  That  is  too  pain- 
iul  to  think  of,  so  soon  after  some  one  to  keep  us  company.  You,  at 
your  age,  certainly  will  not  put  in  as  a  plea,  the  pressure  of  time  ? 
Leave  that  to  us,  who  have  grown  older,"  she  said  with  a  gay 
Jaugh.  "  But  you  arc  tired,  doubtless,  now— your  rooms  are 
ready,  which  I  hope  you  will  find  to  your  taste." 

"  And  Mons.  Gonzales,  the  husband  of  our  hostess,  do  we  not 
find  him  at  home  ?"  T  said  to  D'Armas,  when  we  had  withdrawn. 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  seldom  visible ;  you  meet  him  much  oftener  in 
the  back  portico,  than  in  the  parlor;  his  influence  is  rather  of  a  neg- 
ative kind,  and  is  felt  in  the  success  of  the  crop,  and  the" yearly  selk 
tlement  of  accounts."  , 

I  descended  no  more  into  the  parlor  that  evening,  though  my  com- 
panion did,  but  remained  in  my  room,  nursing  my  low  spirits  and 
secretly  envious  of  the  enjoyments  below,  the  sound??  of  which  T 
could  occasionally  hear. 

At  breakfast,  D'Armas  occupied  the  head  of  the  table,  carved 
and  criticized  the  dishes,  and  found  fault  with  the  servants.  *'  1 
d-onit  believe   I   more   than   half  like  this    D'ArniMS,"    I  -  mrnt;illv 


(.'LAKLMuNDi:.  4;> 

thooght.  "  He  seems  moot  iniernnlly  at  home.  What  business  has 
he  here  any  way  ?"  » 

These  questions,  which  there  was  no  one  to  answer,  were  just  then 
forgotten  in  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  young  lady,  who  entered 
the  room  at  full  speed,  crying  in  French,  several  times,  "  Philo- 
pene,  philopene — Henri,  you  owe  me  the  forfeit."  It  was  only 
when  she  was  completely  out  of  breath,  and  had  overset  the  coffee 
urn,  which  a  servant  was  c^irrying,  over  my  shirt  bosom,  that  she 
became  aware  of  my  presence. 

An  awkward  introduction  from  Madame,  followed,  in  which  the 
young  lady  was  presented  as  her  daughter^  which  was  succeeded  by 
^  still  more  embarrassing  silence,  during  which  time.  I  sat  bolt  up, 
light,  in  my  chair,  and  gazed  moodily  out  of  the  window.  Still  I 
could  not  help  stealing  an  occasional  glance  at  her  who  had  caused 
my  discomfiture.  She  was  very  pretty — nay  dazzlingly  beautiful, 
and  as  I  made  thesc^ observations,  my  ill-nature  began  to  disappear. 
But  she  was  talking  in  French,  with  that  vivacity  which  does  not 
leave  a  line  of  feature  in  repose,  and  which  all  of  the  race  who 
speak  that  language  seem  to  possess,  tilking  too  to  cousin  Henri. 

My  chagrin  began  to  return. 

She  had  all  of  the  features,  and  the  black  hair,  which  distinguish 
the  Southern  races  of  Europe.  But  her  complexion  was  fair,  prob- 
ably from  some  intermixture  of  Northern  blood.  And  tken  too,  her 
teeth  !  No  Goddess  of  youth  and  health,  ever  had  more  dazzling 
ivory. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

After  the  meal  was  finished,  I  found  myself  with  some  trepida- 
tion, alone  with  the  young  lady  who  had  been  introduced  to  me  as 
M'lle.  Clarimonde,  and  no  words  as  yet  exchanged  towards  forming 
an  acquaintance.  I  sighed  to  think  I  had  not  picked  up  more 
drawing  room  ideas,  and  as  the  superstitious  sailor  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean vows  so  many  candles  to  the  Virgil  in  return  for  help  from 
threatened  danger,  so  did  I  promise  to  the  altar  of  fashion  an  obla- 
tion of  new  suits,  patent  leather  boots,  and  other  accessories  of  dress 
could  I  but  extricate  myself  from  my  present  embarrassment.  But 
the  silence  could  not  last  always. 

"  You  speak  French,  doubtless,  monsieur?"  said  she,  in  that  lan- 
guage, seeing  I  was  somewhat  slow  in  commencing  the  conversation. 
But  I  gave  her  to  understand  I  could  trust  myself  only  in  English. 

"But  I  speak  but  little  English,  myself,"  continued  she,  in  the 
same  tdngue,  "  and  unless  you  should  happen  to  speak  a  little 
French,  I  am  afraid  we  will  not  be  able  to  interchange  our  ideas." 

She  paused  for  a  reply ;  I  answered  her  by  a  look  of  respectful 
inquiry;  foj  I  well  knew  that  any  avowal  of  an  acquaintance  with 
the  language  would  impose  on  me  the  necessity  of  speaking  it  alto- 
gether. 

She  appeared  to  have  some  lingering  doubts  still,  and  suddenly 
overwhelmed  me  with  inquiries  in  French,  so  pleasing,  so  softly  in- 
sinuj^ing,  that  I  found  it  difficult  to  expr^  my  ignorance  of  her 
meaning  in  my  countenance  or  by  word. 

'*  But  why  do  you  so  much  object  to  English,  Mademoiselle  ?  yoH 
seem  to  comprehend  it  perfectly,  and  from  the  fe'w  words  that  you 
have  used,  I  can  perceive  that  your  accent  is  by  no  means  bad." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  bending  her  head  so  that  her  face,  with 
the  exception  of  a  pouting  lip,  was  almost  concealed  by  a  mass  of  black 
curls,  she  sat  at  the  piano,  where  she  had  take*  her  seat  when  w* 
entered  the  parlor,  idly  running  her  fingers  over  the  keys  in  the 
most  charmingly  pettish  manner. 


CLARIMONDE.  47 

"  Since  you  will  not  talk,  perhaps  it  will  please  yom  to  play  for 
me,  Mademoiselle.  .You  are  not  very  angry  with  me  for  being  una- 
ble to  speak  your  language  ?" 

Still  no  reply,  unless  a  ringing,  mirthful  laugh,  and  the  continued 
thumping  of  the  piano,  miL,ht  be  coasidered  as  such. 

"  It  is  a  very  dull  life  we  lead  here  in  the  country,"  she  at  length 
said ;  "  so  when  I  heard  Mama  read  the  letter  of  introduction  which 
preceded  you,  and  which  flattered  you  more  than  you  deserve,  I  be- 
gan to  form  all  manner  of  grand  ideas  of  you,  and  to  dream  of  you 
as  a  prince  in  disguise.  You  cannot  imagine  how  disappointed  I 
am  in  you.  Monsieur.     Ah,  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  a  prince." 

*'  But,  my  dear  Mademoiselle,"  I  commenced  indignantly  to  pro- 
test; but  she  disdained *iy  apology,  and  was  already  dashing  off  in 
a  rapid  and  brilliant  mor^cau  of  music,  with  an  air  of 
perfect  indifference  as  to  its  reception.  I  cared  little  enough  for 
rapid  overtures ;  but  I  could  not  help  watching,  with  eager  interest, 
her  various  attitudes  and  expression  -,  the  fluttering  of  her  curls,  and 
the  quick  movements  of  her  taper  fingers  over  the  keys,  ^er  man- 
ner was  so  instinct  with  life  and  vivacity,  that  to  see  her  in  tjie 
midst  of  a  grand  opera,  |uggested  the  idea  of  some  wild  colt  sud^ 
denly  put  for  the  first  time  .under  the  restraint  of  bit  and  spur.  I 
think  some  such  ludicrous  expression,  she  must  have  seen  written 
on  my  countenance,  a»  she  suddenly  ceased  playing,  and  looked  me 
steadily  in  the  face. 

"  Oh !  what  is  the  use  in  playing  for  you  !  will  you  tell  me  that 
that  fantasia  was  not  executed  well  ?" 

"You  play  divinely;  you  misinterpret  my  looks  altogether." 

•^  But  then  you  play  yourself — nay,  no  denial." 

"  Only  a  few  simple  old  songs,  which  are  not  worth  the  hearing 
of  so  fine  a  perfonncr  as  yourself?"  % 

"They  wilf  be  new  to  me;  and  then,  too,  we  admire  everything 
that  is  old.     No  excuse,  sir  critic ;  I  must  hear  you." 

"And  so  you  shall,  if  it  will  give  you  pleasure,"  and  I  took  the 
seat." 

"Ah!  Monsieur  St.  Arment~r-what  is  your  first  name — Oscar? 
You  are  not  ao  bad  as  I  thought.     We  shall  become  famous  friends. 


•IS  CLARIMONBE. 

How  useftilyou  will  be ;  I  shall  like  j'ou  better  than  Henri,  that  Ls, 
M.  P'Armas.  You  shall  be  my  cavalier  when  we  have  any  pic-nic 
excursion:  and  can  you  dance?  Oh  I  we  love  dearly  lo  dance 
here." 

^' Now  you  flatter  me;  however,  the  trouble  of  making  a  suitable 
return  outweighs  the  pleasure.  But  you  suspected  me  -just  now  of 
not  being  a  prince ;  you  owe  me  some  apology." 

And  so  I  found  all  embarrassment  and  difficulty  vanish  in  her 
presence,  and  that  at  the  end  of  an  hour's  conversation  we  had  be- 
come fast  friends.  Then  she  showed  me  the  family  librar}^,  and 
consigned  it  to  my  care  during  my  stay. 

"But  you  will  not  go  away,  soon,  will  yo*.  Prince  Oscar?  You 
will  stay  here  and  amuse  me,  and  play  with  ine,  will  you  not,  like  a 
good  Prince  ?  But  I  must  leave  you  now,  to  make  some  visits  with 
Mama." 

The  remainder  of  the  morning  I  stayed  where  she  had  left  me, 
wonderin^at  what  was  to  me  the  strange  being,  who,  a  moment  be- 
fore, had  made  the  dark  room  light  with  her  presence — building 
air-castles,  in  which  she  was  ever  the  bright  inmate,  and  weaving 
crolden  fancies,  out  of  the  few  words  that  had  passed  between  us.  I 
was  continually  recalling  what  had  been  said — studying  new  mean- 
ings to  unimportant  words,  wondering  what  wwild  be  said  when  next 
we  should  meet,  and  vainjy  trying  to  remember  whom  I  had  ever 
seen  with  just  such  a  bewitching  toss  of  her  black  curls. 

No  one  can  ever  assign  any  reason  why  his  fancy  should  or  should 
not  become  inflamed  with  a  woman's  image  ;  why  a  black  eye  should 
contain  so  much  more  of  the  poison  in  one  case  than  another,  or 
why  the  tone  of  one  voica should  act  like  a  Circean  spell,  when  others  , 
more  melodious  fall  p^^erless.  And  so,  without  having  any  reason, 
I  henceforth  became  subject  to  her  will,  and  was  a  happy  or  miser- 
able slave,  as  her  caprice  might  dictate.  Not  that  I  yet  dreamed . 
of  my  state ;  I  did  not  seenny  gossamer  ^tters,  and  thought  I  was  . 
still  free.  ' 

I  was  absorbed  in  my  reveries,  when  a  domestic  entered  to  in 
quire  at  what  hour  dinner  should  he  eerred^ 


CL2LRIM0NDE.  49 

''  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  have  not  yet  return'ed  ?  "  I  de- 
manded. ^ 

"  Monsieur  is  all  alone  to-day/' 

I  tola  him  to  serve  it  when  he  would,  and  then  resigned  myself 
to  my  first  pangs  of  anguish.  The  loss  of  her  company  for  a  few 
hours  seemed  an  almost  unendurable  evil.      * 

I  was  still  despondent  and  gloomy,  when  the  carriage,  late  in  the 
evening,  drove  to  the  door.  Mademoiselle  gave  her  hand,  in  de- 
scending, to  D' Armas,  who  did  not  care  for  it,  and  seemed  oblivi- 
ous of  me,  to  whom  it  would  have  been  a  priceless  boon. 
•  Our  conversation,  during  the  evening,  was  by  no  means  so  flatter- 
ing to  my  vanity  as  I  had  been  fancying  all  day  it  would  be,  and  I 
soon  retired,  almost  sullenly,  to  my  room,  ready  to  resign  her  to  the 
Pandemonium,  where  I  doubted  little  she  and  the  rest  of  her  sex 
would  ultimately  arrive. 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

The  subsequent  evening  the  house  was  thrown  open  to  the  recep- 
tion of  visitors.  Our  principal  resource  was  dancing;  but  there 
were  not  wanting  those  among  the  elder  guests,  who  found  a  charm 
in  keno  hezigue,  and  other  Frencj^  games.  Madame  Gonzales  was" 
kind  enough  to  furnish  us  with  the  music,  at  the  piano.  M'lle. 
Clarimonde,  for  I  bad  by  this  time  learned  her  name,  led  the  dance, 
and  though  I  obtained  her  hand  for  the  various  waltzes  as  many 
times  as  was  my  due,  ic  was  with  ill-suppressed  jealousy  that  I  saw 
that  others  were  as  eager  for  the  favor  as  myself,  and  that  it  was  just 
as  readily  granted  to  them  as  to  me.  While  thus,  absorbed  and 
careless  of  all  about  me,  lounging  through  the  hail,  I  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  her  now  well-known  voice. 

"Let  me^ke  your  arm.  Now  tell  me  whether  you  have  been 
asleep  or  dreaming.  Can  none  of  our  belles  of  the  country  charm 
ycu  ?  So  short  a  time  from  home  and  yet  love-sick  for  the  absent 
one?'' 

"You  do  not  deserve  a  compliment  for  your  penetration,  this 
time.  I  have  never  been  in  love,  yet;  that  is,  if  you  will  except  the 
present  moment,"  I  tried  to  stammer  out.  "  I  am  very  innocent  of 
Cupid's  wil^s,  and  know  but  little  of  the  tender  sentiment*" 

"  Ah  I  I  shall  soon  make  you  admi:  to  the  contrary  by  your  own 
language.     Do  you  know  that  I  am  something  of  a  gypsy  ?  " 

"  Without  knowing,  I  should  think  it  highly  probable.'' 

^*  Weil,  I  can  at  least  recall  the  past,  if  not  foretell  the  future.  1 
shall  prove  to  you  that  you  are  not  as  ignorant  of  the  tender  passion 
^you  pretend." 

"  You  will,  at  least,  suffer  me  to  remain  a  sceptic  till  I  see  some 
evidence  of  your  power." 

"  Undoubtedly ;  but  you  will  not  remain  so  long."  With  this 
she  took  her  pencil  and  wrote  upon  a  card  the  words  which  I  had 
long  since  written  upon  the  school  house  wall,  and  which  had  been 
flogged  indelibly  into  my  memory.  g 

1  looked  at  my  companion  for  tht^gt  moment,  half  belkviBg  xa 


CLARIMOXDm  -31 

Lcr  pfeteuded  superuatural  powers ;  but  the  next  I  saw  staudlng  be- 
fore me  and  laughing  at  my  astonishment,  the  face  of  my  quondam 
■fchoolmate. 

"■  And  have  you  known  me  ever  since  my  arrival,  and  did  not  tell 
me  ?  How  could  you  remain  a  hypocrite  so  many  hours  ?  And  to 
think  that  I  cried  for  you  so  often  when  I  first  left  school !  You 
were  the  only  friend  I  had,  then.  Mademoiselle.'' 

"  And  we  shall  still  be  as  good  friends  as  ever,  Oscar,  if  you  wish 
it." 

'-  Yes.  b^t  I  am  afraid  we  will  not  be  so  closely  united  as  when 
we  hud  no  other  Jriends  to  divide  our  friendship.  Now  you  have 
ever  so  many  followers  to  oflFer  you  homage,  and  your  smile  will  be 
as  ready  for, them  as  for  me."    I  could  not  repress  a  dolorous  sigh. 

"  What  I  you  have  just  discovered  me,  and  jealous  so  soon  ?  But 
50U  know  we  all  love  to  be  admired — my  keart  is  large  enough  for 
a  great  many  friends." 

'^  I  would  much  rather  you  would  reduce  the  number  somewhat; 
or,  indeed,  limit  it  to  one,  provided  you  happily  selected  me.  But 
tell  me  ho^  it  is,  that  you  come  to  be  living  here. 

'•  When  you  first  knew  me,  I  was  staying  with  a  relative,  the 
same,  you  remember,  who  carried  me  from  the  party.  She  resides 
in  Xew  Orleans,  now,  and  this  coming  winter  I  am  to  come  out — 
with  her  .for  my  chaperone.  But  I  have  promised  to  waltz  with 
this  gentleman  who  is  approaching.  Get  your  partner  and  join 
us.". 

But  as  I  could  not  dance  with  Mademoiselle  herself,  I  thought  it 
pleasanter  to  smoke  a  cigar  on  tlft  balcony,  and  wonder  whether 
this  was  the  pleasantest  or  most  mi.-erable  time  of  my  life.  ""We 
will  be  as  friendly  and  fimiliar  as  when  we  were  children  ;  but  what 
lover  ever  was  satisfied  with  that '!  My  presentiment  in  coming  was 
correct ;  it  will  do  me  no  good,  afld  I  do  not  yet  see  the  end.  To- 
morrow and  henceforth  I  will  shut  myself  in  the  library  and  busj' 
znyself  with  law.'' 

Arrived  at  this  wise  resolve,  I  threw  away  my  cigar  and  went  to 
bed.  Sleep,  however,  did  not  visit  my  eyelids,  in  spit«  of  my  good 
resolutions.  ' 

The  next  morninc:  my  less  wA-e  extended  across  the  library  table. 


52  <"LARIMOXDE. 

and  I  was  making  frantic  efforts  to  undcrst(^nd  a  knotty  case  in 
some  old  law  book  that  I  had  discovered.  At  the  end  of  an  hour 
my  heart  was  beating  rapidly,  and  I  did  not  remember  a  word.  Just 
then  a  servant  entered,  who  said  that  Miss  Clarimonde  had  sent  her 
compliments,  and  begged  me  to  come  and  amuse  her.  I  was  dying 
to  go,  but  remembering  my  resolution,  I  sent  her  word  I  was  too 
busy  to  come. . 

Then  a  second  messenger  appeared — Mademoiselle  wished  to  prac- 
tice a  duet,  and  would  require  my  aeslstance,     T  must  nome.  ^  • 

I  had  just,  enough  strength  left  to  make  a  faint  refusal,  and  then 
threw  the  book  across  the  room. 

.  I  was  sullenly  clutching  my  hair,  and  stalking  about  the  room 
with  "a  miserable  scowl,  when  I  heard  .  a  mirthful  laugh  behind 
me. 

"  So  this  is  the  business  that  so  much  engages  you  I" 

Another  long  peal  of  laughter  from  Clarimonde,  for  of  course  it 
was  she. 

"lam  afflicted  with  the  blue  devils  to-day,"  I  moodily  said. 
"  Why  don't  you  leave  me  to  be  dull  and  miserable  by  myself?  Do 
you  wish  to  share  them  with  me  ?'" 

"  Ah,  you  are  angry  with  me  about  something,  and  have  been 
forming  some  foolish  resolutions;  I  know  it — I  know  it,"  she  (?x- 
claimed.  , 

And  so  I  was  dragged  off  to  the  piano  stool ;  and  so  I  continued 
to  make  excursions  on  foot  and  on  horseback  whienever  she  -wished ; 
and  these  amusements  we  would  sometimes  vary  by  floating  together 
in  a  Vustic  bark  over  the  river,  tnrough  the  long  shadows  formed*  by 
the  trees. 

But,  in  spite  of  these  manj  advantages,  her  conversation  and 
manner  were  such  as  never  led  me  to  imagine  that  my  foolish  loyc 
was  returned ;  and,  although  the  Avord  was  ever  on  my  lips,  I  could 
no  more  have  breathed  it  to  her  than  to  a  friend  who  is  sceptical  of 
the  existence  of  the  passion. 

The  time  at  length  arrived  which  I  had  to  spend  in  taking  my 
depositions.  This  task  accomplished,  my  departure  could  not  well 
be  delayed ;  but  it  came  sooijer  than  I  expected.   • 

"We  had  b^cn  spending  the  evenfng  much  as  usual ;  that  is,  Henri 


<-LABiM'JND,E.  '     ..-tX 

•'iud  1  had  danced  with  Olarimonde,  to  the  music  of  the  ''Black 
Domino/^  and  other  favorite  airs,  which  Madame  had  played  for  us. 
Then  we  haid  eaten  fruit  and  candies  till  bed  time,  and  having 
nothing  else  to  do,  were  about  to  retire. 

*' Clarimonde,"  said  I,  during  a  momentary  tete-a-tete,  "1  have 
^ever  yet  asked-  you  who  i&  this  Henri  D' Armas,  who  honors  your 
amily  with  so  much  attention.     A  distant  relative  is  he  not'/"' 

"  Do  you  not  then  really  know  ? "  said  she,  regarding  me  with  a 
curious  look.  • 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  know  that  I  exactly  fancy  M.  D'Ar- 
mas.  I  have  never  conceived  sufficient  admiration  or  interest  in 
him,  although  he  is  undoubtedly  a  man  of  talent,  and  is  sometimes 
good  company,  to  make  any  inquiries." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  do  not  like  him ;  he  is  my  Ji<ince."  She 
?ail  this  with  as  much  simplicity  as  though  she  did  not  kflow  I 
would  be  staggered  by  the  blow.  But  to  do  her  justice,  she  did 
not 'fully  estimate  its  effect.  , 

"Mama  has  been  already  troubling  me  to  appoint  the  day;  but 
I  am  just  from  the  Convent,  now,  and  I  wish  to  see  the  world ;  I  do 
not  choose  to  get  married  yet.     Am  I  not  right  ?  " 

"  U ndoubtedl}',  you  do  well,"  I  replied,  struggling  to  conceal  my 
emotion.  "  But  the  business  which  brought  me  to  your  house  is 
accomplished.  I  have  tarried  too  long  with  you  already,  and  I  must 
leave  you  to-morrow." 

"  Oh  I  no — not'so  soon  ?" 

But  my  resolution  remained  firm,  notwithstanding  her  entreaties, 
afld  the  polite  regrets  of  the  family.  I  bnde  them  adieu,  made  my 
preparations  for  departure  by  the  stage,  which  would  pass  early  in 
the  morning,  and  the  rest  of  the  night  t  spent  in  going  wearily 
over,  in  my  own  mind,  what  had  occurred  to  me  during  my  stay. 
The  daylight  was  just  beginning  to  drift  through  my  windows,  when 
I  summoned  sufficient  resolution  to  look,  for  the  last  time,  on  objects 
which  would  forever  remain  dear.  Thp  porter  had  already  preceded 
me  with  my  trunk,  when  I  turned  my  eyes  once  again  towards  the 
door.  ■  ' 

AVhat  tliey  had  been  ^n  despairingly  seeking  for  in  the  faint  light — 


54  '  CLARIMONDE. 

the  loved  form  of  Clariuionde — I' now  saw  before  me.  With  dis- 
heveled tresses  floating  loosely  about  her  shoulders,  and  only  a  light 
shawl  thrown  over  her  white  wrapper,  I  at  first  had  taken  her  for  a 
phantom  of  my  morbid  jjincy;  but  her  words  soon  undeceived  me. 

"I am  very,  very  sorry  you  are  going  thus  away.  What  need  is 
there  for  so  much  haste?     We  will  see  you  again,  will  we  not?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  see  you  again,  perhaps  at  your  wedding.  Good  bye, 
Clarimonde."  ' 

"  Good  bye,  Oscar;  you  will  not  forget  me,  and  we  shall  always 
be  very  good  friends,  that  is,  if  you  will  allow  me.  Ah !  I  shall 
miss  you  sadly  when  you  are  gone  I" 

She  bent  her  head  as  she  stood  upon  the  steps;  I  kissed  the  tear 
from  her  eye,  clasped  her  slender  waist  for  one  moment  in  my 
arms,  and  then  hastily  departed.  Then  I  heard  the  heavy  door 
close  behind  me  with  an  ominous  sound;  which  seem6tl  to  tell  mo 
we  must  forever  go  our  diflFerent  wayy. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I  returned  to  the  village  of  Dogwood,  but  ambition  had  died 
-within  me.  Moody  and  desponding,  I  saw* but  a  reflection  of  my 
spirits  in  the  decayed  aspect  of  the  place,  and  its  grass  grown 
sheets ;  in  the  gallows,  with  its  rotting  hemp,  and  in  its  deso- 
late burying-ground. 

There  was  a  long,  vac^^nt  store-room-'  in  the  building,  of  which 
my  office  formed  a  part,  that  was  filled  with  old  masonic  trumpery, 
processional  banners,  and  worthless 'equipments  of  some  by-gone 
military  company.  It  had  at  one  time,  too,  been  used  for  holding- 
fairs,  or  festive  meetings  of  some  sort,-  and  the  faded  wreaths  and 
garlands,  which  still  hung  around,  rendered  it  to  me  inexpressibly 
dreary. 

In  this  unfrequented  lumber  room,  I  now  oftentimes  withdrew, 
and  passed  my  time  in  playing  upon  a  violin  airs  and  accompani- 
juents  in  unison  with  the  life  I  was  leading.  With  no  business, 
and  no  employment,  with  all  sources  of  energy  dried  up  within  mc, 
1  began  to  feel  that  I  could  not  endure  the  atmosphere  of  the  place 
much  Ioniser. 

One  day  I  receivad  a  letter  from  my  uncle's  man  of  business, 
begging  me  to  hasten  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  ci<-y.  The  health 
of  my  only  relative,  it  was  added,  was  rapidly  failing,  and  unless  I 
should  return  soon,  there  was  but  little  probability  of* my  ever  again 
seeing  him  in  life.  A  summons  so  imperative  admitted  of  no  de- 
lay, and  I  need  not  add  I  lost  no  time  in  once  more  regaining  my 
native  city. 

•  Dismounting  from  the   cumbrous  vehicle   in  which  my  journey 
h<ad  thus  far  been  performed,  I  accepted  a  seat  in   the  buggy  of  an  ■ 
acquaintance,  who  was  driving  in  the   direction  of  my  uncle's  resi- 
dence, and  we  werc'soon  tearing  along  over  the  paved  streets  as  fast 
as  a  couple  of  spirited  horses  could  carry  us. 

My  companion,  whom  I  nov/  found  was  half  intoxicated,  was  still 
urging  on  our  course,  as  wc  drew    near  the  house,  when  suddenly 


r)6  <'LARlMOND?y 

our  wheels  came  in  rude  contact  with  those  of  a  hearse,  which  stood 
before  the  door.  '  It  was  a  bad  omen,  I  thouirht,  and  T  was  by  no 
means  reassured  when  I  learned  that  It  was  ray  uncle  who  was  dead, 
and  that  the  mournful  carriage  was  now  in  waiting  to  convoy  him, 
•who  .was  my  last  r^ative,  to  his  final   resting  pl^ce.     There  had 
been  but  little  unity  of  sentiment  between  us  during  his  life',  and' 
after  his  spirit  had  flown  fdr  ever,  it  seemed  that  we  could  not  avoid 
coming  in"  collision.     I  entered  the  house,  as  a  notary  was  reading 
his  will,  thoujrh  it  sounded  much  more  like  a  malediction.     T  was 
the  appointed  legatee,'  both  of  his  imprecations  and  his.  wealth,  and    • 
the  latter  he  seemed   to  hurl  at  me,  as  if  he  well  foresaw  that  it 
would  be   the   greatest  misfortune   that   oould   be  bequeathed  to  * 
me.  '  . 

And  now  that  I  can  look  back  upon  the  past,  I  can  see  what  a 
dreadful  load  I  had  to  stagger  under.  What  youth,  in  the  most 
favourable  circumstances,  could  put  forth  his  best  energies,  could 
struggle  for  a  paltry  remuneration,  when  do  what  he  would,  he 
could  not  spend  his  bank  notes  as  fast  as  they  accumulated?  And 
when  I  add,  that  I  was  without  any  settled  purpose,  and  that  I  was 
embittered  and  dispirited  by  the  rementbrance  of  my  unrecjuitcd 
love,  the  wpnder  rather  is  that  I  did  not  become  more  reckless  and 
prodigal  than  I  did.     But  I  anticipate. 

So  I  followed  my  uncle's  remains  to  their  final  resting  place,  ac- 
companied thither,  by  the  way,  by  my  dissolute  friend,  who  insisted  ^ 
upon  singing,  while  supporting  himself  against  a  tree,  in  a  dismal 
bass  voice.       *  '       ■ 

Then  I  reflected  that  I  was  the  sole  .  possessor  of  a  colossal  for- 
tune, with  nothing  to  do — so  I  had  now  begun  to  reason — but  spend 
and  enjoy.  To  show  my  respect  fur  his  memory  I  determined  to 
dress  henceforth  in  irreproachable  black — some  of  my  friends 
thought  it  became  me.  My"  time  I  occupied  in  emptying,  with- 
much  solemnity,  the  bottles  of  wines  he  had  collected  in  his  estab- 
lishment. Meanwhile — for  it  wiis  evident  that  j;  young  man  having 
a  princely  revenue  at  his  disposal  could  not  afford  such  a  life  long — 
I  would  endeavor  to  see  what  was  to  be  done.  But  was  it  not  a 
pity  that  Prince  Fortunatus,  with  all    of  his    resources,    (and  I    \ 


ei^RIMONDE.         •  •  57 

cursed  my  unhappy  lot,)  should  be  condemned  to  sigh  for  a  woman 
in  vain  ? 

Musins;  thus  as  I  sat  late  at  night  in  my  room,  my  reveries  were 
disturbedJsy  a  ringing  of  the  door  bell.  "  A  party  of  gentlemen, 
and  among  them  M.  D' Armas,  at  the  door,  who  desire  you  to  de- 
scend," says  Francois.  I  do  so — find .  an  omnibus  full  of  convivial 
friends,  (it  is  not  difficult  to  %id  them  now,)  who  force  me  to  join 
them.  Having  purchai^ed  a  collection  of  musical  toy  instruments, 
we  proceed  to  amuse  ourselves  by  serenading  the  houses  of  well 
known  friends.'  The  butt  of  the  party  is  a  certain  judge,  more 
known  for  his  .legal  knowledge  than  his  appreciation  of  a  joke. 
However,  it  is  understood  that  our  night's  travels  are  to  terminate 
with  a  supper,  and  his  love  of  good  eating  has  induced  him  to  put 
up  with  the  extravagant  spirits  of  the  party.  At  each  house  one 
of  the  number  is^  required  to  furnish  a  song,  or  play  upon  his  instru- 
ment some  air,  while  the  rest  of  the  party  joins  in  a  chorus.  This 
arrangement  is  readily  submitted  to  by  all  until  it  came  the  turn  of 
the  before-mentioned  dignitary. 

"  Come,  Judge,"  says  one,  "  take  your  trumpet  and  blow  us  a 
pensivcrair." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  have  no  idea  of  music— I  never  tried  to 
sing  a  song  or  play  upon  an  instrument  in  my  life." 

"  That  matters  not — so  much  the  more  need  for  your  learning 
now." 

■   '^  And  upon  such  an  absurd  instrument,  too  ?" 
"  Strike  up,  Judge,  your  audience  is  getting  impatient." 
"  A  man  of  my  time  of  life  and  position,"  interposed  the  Judge 
piteously. 

"  Dignity  is  at  a  discount  here.  Once  for  all,  no  excuse.  Not 
another  drink  until  you  have  displayed  your  talents." 

Thus  adjured,  the  Judge,  with  the -air  of  a  spoilt  child,  took  the 
toy  trumpet,,  dejectedly  placed  it  to  his  lips,  and  produced  upon 
it  a  faint  souTnd. 

"  lioudcr  !  Louder!"  shouted  the  party.   • 

The  wretched  martyr. to  pleasure  did  as  he  was  told,  and  inflated 
his  cheeks  to  their  fullest  capacity. 


•38  •  OLARIMONpE. 

^'Now  sgund  US  a  charge." 

Here  his  eyes  seemed  fairly  starting  from  their  sockets.  At 
lerigth^  after  a  fearful  blast, 'he  sank  back  in  his  seat  exhausted, 
and  inquired,  in  a  faint  voice —  ^ . 

"For  God  sake,  gentlemen,  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

These  amusements,  thus  happily  commenced  and  prolonged 
through  the  night,  Vere  continued  q^t  a  well  known  restaurant  du- 
ring the  whole  of  the  following  day.  The  different  meals  were 
combined  into  one  grand  whole,  and  our  time  was  spent  in  ordering 
and  consuming  the  various  dishes  that  lay  within  the  power  of  the 
chef.  Occasionally  between  the  courses  the  party  would  adjourn  to 
the  open  air  to  test  a  question  of  boxing,  wrestling  or  running,  be- 
tween the  fastest  men  of  the  party.  At  one  time  attention  was  di- 
rected to  the  baldness  of  the  Judge,  whereupon  some  one  declared 
that  it  had  been  occasioned  by  his  standing  too  often  on  his  head 
when  a  boy'. 

"  Ah,  Judge,  that  is  a  trick  that  you  never  as  yet  have  shown  u^. 
We  must  have  that." 

"  I  do  assure-  you,"  cried  the  victim,  "  I  have  never  attempted 
any  such  experiments  as  man  or  boy."  * 

"  Let  us  see  what  you  can  do  before  we  accept  of  any  excuses. 
You  shall  have  a  cushion  to  put  under  your  head.  Come,  your 
friends  will  help  you  with  a  leg  until  you  get  started.  Here  we 
go." 

And  in  spite  of  all  prayers  and  entreaties,  the  performance  had 
to  be  gone  through  with  upon  the  table.  At  the  critical  moment, 
those  of  the  party  who  had  hold  of  his  legs,  released  their  hold,  and 
the  unwieldly  body  of  the  performer  fell  at  full  length,  and  with  a 
loud  crash,  among  the  bottle*  and  glasses. 

But  at  length  even  these  resources  failed  us,  and  something  else_ 
h^d  to  be  thought  of.  ' 

"  Why  not  a  game  of  cards  ?  I  happen,  by  the  merest  chance,  to 
have  a  pack  with  me,"  eaid  31.  D' Armas. 

N6  one- dissented. 

'^  I  believe  we  all  play  ?"  he  further  inquired. 

I  was  obliged,  with  many  blushes,  to  confess  my  ignorance. 


CLARIMONDE.  o9 

"  Bui  the  game  i8  so  simple — the  mere  work  of  a  moment." 

1  offered  no  further  objection,  and  the  remainder  of  the  day  was 
thus  passed.  In  spite  of  the  simplicity  of  the  game,  I  discovered 
that  I  invariably  lost  while  D' Armas  won. 

"Courage,  7non  ami/'  lie  said,  as  he  replaced  the  pack  in  his 
pocket,  "  it  requires  some  little  practice  to  thoroughly  understand 
it.  It  cost  me  something,  now  that  I  remember,  the  first  time  I  ever 
played." 

And  so,  as  we  returned  home,  I  forgot  that  I  had  played  my  first 
game  of  chance,  and -the  consequences  to  which  it  might  lead — 
forgot  that  within  the  same  house,  and  upon  a  somewhat  similar  oe- 
casion  my  poor  mother  had  contracted  the  seeds  of  death — and 
when  I  retired,  was  happy  that  in  doing  this  I  had  also  forgotten 
my  unrequited  love.  « 


r        CHAPTER  XIV. 

It  may  perhaps  appear  strange  that  I  ehould  now  appear  a^ 
the  intimate  associate  of  D' Armas,  whose  position  in  relation  to 
Clarimonde  would  naturally  have  inspired  in  me  aversion.  But  I 
soon  foiMid  it  difficult  to  resist  an  intimacy  which  he  sought  with 
every  art  to  force  upon  me,  and  I  was^  besides,  in  that  greatest  of 
all  wildernesses,  a  large  city.  Besides,  without  feeling  any  disposi* 
tion  to  make  him  a  friend,  his  agreeable  manners,  many  accomplish- 
ments, and  the  pleasant  bitter  things  he  could  say  about  every  friend, 
soon  made  him  alnjost  an  indispensable  companion. 

I  accompanied  him  to  pistol  galleries,  jvas  initiated  by  him  behind 
the  scenes,  and 'introduced  to  the  most  fashionable  gourmets  and 
viveurs.'  When  I  wished  to  spend  my  money  at* gaming,  no  friend 
coiild  have  been  kinder  in  showing  me  where  it  could  agreeably  and 
fashionably  be  done ;  or  to  win  a  mistress,  none  knew  readier  means 
by  which  my  purpose  could  be  effected.  "  If  you  really  are  bent," 
said  he  to  me  one  day,  "  upon  going  to  *the  deuce,  I  can  show  you 
the  pleasantest  and  most  agreeable  path."  And  he  was  good  en.ougli 
to  keep  his  word. 

I  chanced  at  the  opera,  one  well-remembered  benefit  night,"  in 
company  with  Henri  when  the  world  of  fashion  glittered  in  the 
well  filled  boKes,  and  indeed  in  every  avenue  and  pathway  leading 
thereto.  The  curtain  rose  anon,  and  I  sat  silently  wondering  a.t  the 
vshower  of  bouquets,  which  fell  almt)st  knee-deep  around  the  prima 
donna,  whose  benefit  nighi  it  was,  and  which  even  for  this  city  of 
iiowers,  seemed  rather  a  Sybarite's  dream  than  anything  more  terre6- 
tial. 

"  Ah  !  you  seem  interested,"  said  Henri. «  "  I  share  your  admi- 
ration." 

"  Ycu  could  not  welcome  a  goddess  with  more  joyful  ovations.'' 
"  You  refer  to  the  battery  of  opera  glasses  that  is  directed  to- 
wards her,  I  suppose,"  said  he,  seeming  to  find  some  diflSculty  in 


CLARIMONDE.  61 

understanding  what  there  could  be  poetic  in  encountering  the  stare 
of  a  whole  audience. 

"  But  now  let  us  hasten  to  pay  #ir  devoirs'— it  will  be  a  pleasure 
for  me  to '.present  yo;;." 

"  Bufr,  my  dear  sir,  I  do  not  understand — that  is,  is  it  not  an  un- 
seasonable hour,"  I  replied,  wondering  what  had  put  it  into  his 
head  to  go  behind  the  scenes.  But  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  me,  and 
beckoninp:  to  me  to  keep  him  in  sight,  moved  ofi'.  Nor  did  my  com- 
panion take  the  direction  I  anticipated,  but  crossed  to  the  opposite 
side,  and  entered  a  hr/r.  Its  occupants  I  now  for  the  first  time  dis- 
covered were  Clarimonde  and  her  aunt ;  and  it  was  to  the  former  I 
now^saw  that  my  companion  had  doubtless  referred,  as  the  cynosure 
of  aM  eyes. 

Whether  it  were  long  absence,  the  splendor  of  her  evening  cos- 
tume, or  whether  time  had  added  ne^  lines  of  intellect  and  grace— =• 
her  always  radiant  countenance  seemed  to  me  to  have  gained  ad- 
ditional beauty,  and  to  have  bloomed  into  the  perfection  of  human 
loveliness.  I  thought  I  detected  another  change  after  the  usual  salu- 
tations had  been  passed,  which,  however,  did  not  occasion  me  so  much 
■  pleasure.  The  impulsive,  mirth-loving,  spoiled  child,  whose  mind 
had  seemed  so  transparent,  had  vanished,  so  I  thought,  and  given 
place  to  a  being  more  beautiful  perhaps,  but  at  the  same  time  more 
repellant,  distant,  and  less  susceptible  of  the  warmer  impulses  of  the 
heart. 

I  am  willing  to  admit,  that  in  her  reception  of  me,  there  was 
such  an  absence  of  flattery;  such  an  indifference  to  my  own  claims 
to  admiration,  that  I  may  unintentionally  have  revenged  myself,  by 
supposing  this  to  1be  her  general  character.  It  certainly  was  very 
painful  to  my  wounded  vanity,  to  be  obliged  to  confess  a  woman 
most  lovely,  at  the  very  moment  wh^n  she  appeared  so  disappoint- 
ed  in  me. 

Added  to  this,  that  though  I  had  long  known  Clarimonde  to  be 
contracted  in  marriage  with  .another,  arid  that  her  manner  towards 
me  had"  never  indicated  any  warmer  sentiment  than  friendship,  I 
had  still  entertained,  in  spite  of  myself,  a  hope  that  my  passion 
might  be  reciprocated. 

But  in  her  reception  of  me  this  evening,  without  any  appearauee 


h-2  TLAKIMONDE. 

of  iucivility  or  ctcii  coldness,  there  "vvus  that  which  would  have 
dampened  the  ardor  of  the  most  sanguifnc  lover.  I  consequently 
soon  left  the  work  of  entertaining  her  to  Henri,  and  subsided  into 
obscurity  by  the  side  oF  her  aunt. 

I  was  supporting  a  conversatioti  as  well  as  1  could,  in  reference  to 
the  operatic  devils  in  red  flannel  tights,  and  the  shgrt-skirted  dan. 
senses,  who  were  picturesquely  developing  and  elaborating  wilh  their 
lower  limbs  those  portions  of  the  play,  to  which  the  higher  notes  of 
the  voice  were  obviously  unequal.  But  my  attention  was  absorbed 
with  Clarimonde,  who  was  sitting  in  front  of  me;  and  I  listened  to 
th-e  words  which  fell  from  her  lips,  with  much  more  anxiety,  than  to 
the  discourse  of  the  talkative  Madame  by  my  side. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  very  much  disappointed  in  your  friend^'  it 
was  said  in  a  low  voice,  but  not  so  low,  as  to  fail  in  reaching  mvear. 

"Ah,  what  would  you  have?  The  young  man  is  •  sufficiently 
commb  ilfaut,  or  I  need  not  tell  you  he  wcfeld  not  be  with  me"—- 
was  Henri's  reply. 

"We  estimate  character  very  difierently;  his  goodly  company 
!Tiay  perhaps  explain  my  disappointment." 

"  It  occurs  to  me,  you  should  rather  have  s^ken  of  him  aST/our 
friend,  than  dsminc." 

"  By  no  means.  But  you  remember  how  much  we  were  interest- 
ed in. his  favor,  when  we  last  saw  him,  he  was  so  amiable  and  handr 
3ome,  and  looked  so-much  like  a  soft  blushing  girl,  that  no  woman 
could  help  falling  in  love 'with  him.  And  then  his  face  had  that 
delicate  shade  of  melancholy,  which  our  sex  so  much  admire.  Not 
the  blase  look^  whicji  indicates  the  exhaustion  of  all  sources  of  plea" 
sure,  but  as  of  one  just  entering  the  threshold,  who  sees  fi'om  afar,  its 
'  emptmess  and  vanity.'^ 

"  I  am  afraid  my  own  face  will  indicate  some  of  the  mournful 
tinge,  which  you  so  poetically  describe,  if  you*continue.  You  do 
not  tell  me,  that  you  find  him  changed  in  that  respect  ?  He  certain- 
ly looked  mournful  enough,  while  conversing  with  you,  a  few  mo- 
meiits  since,  to  have  satisfied  any  one  in  reason." 

•'  I  dare  say;  but  the  old  expression  and  character  of  his  face  is 
gone;  now  his  look  is  coarse  and  dissipated.     Xum protege,  iox  so 


("LARIMONDE.  '  ^') 

I  incline  to  think  him,  ouo:ht  to  feel  grateful  for  the  society  into 
which  you  have  initiated  him."  ,  « 

I  could  remain  to  hear  no  more.  With  a  c-urse  upon  my  lips,  for 
her  cold  pity,  and  an  amiable  determination,  never  to  venture  into 
her  presence  again,'  I  furmally  saluted  the  party  and  hurried  away. 
I  was  now  cu<[[||oose  from  the  only  being  who  .migh^t  have  influ- 
enced my  conduct  for  the  better;  and  with  no  reproving  eye  amid 
the  atmosphere  of  pleasure  and  dissipation  by  which  I  was  surround- 
ed, to  hint  at  a  better  life,  I  abandoned  myself  to  the  current  and 
floated  down  the  stream  of  life,  the  unhappiest  mortal  upon  whom 
the  sun  shone.  It  was  the  consciousness  that  I  might  still  escape 
the  whirlpools  by  which  I  was  surrounded,  that  constituted  my  mis- 
cry.  For  I  had  not  yet  gone  so  far  as  to  bani^  reflection  oi;  be  uu' 
mindful  of  the  profitless  life  I  was  leading.  But  I  could  feel  that 
the  chorda  which  bound  me  to  the  virtuous,  Vvcre  one  after  another 
snapping  asunder,  and  that  my  good  angel  was  about  to  fold  forever 
her  wings. 

,  Henri's  refined  wickedness  at  length  began  to  weary  me,  and  a 
discovery  tjiat  my  polished  adversary  knew  too  much  of  cards,  for 
one  who  confined  himself  to  the  rules  of  honor,  destroyed  what  lit- 
tle friendship  there  had  been  between  us.  Our  rupture  had,  how- 
ever, no  effect  in  restraining  mp,  and  if  anything,  I  was  in  a  worse 
condition  than  before  ;  for  though  D' Armas  cheated  me  out  of  my 
money,,  himself,  he  denied  *that  privilege  to  every  one  else. 


CHAPTER  XV.' 

I  had  wandered,  one  niglit,  through  my  accustomed  haunts,  and 
found  them  deserted  by  the  gay  revellers,  by  whorPlhey  were  usually 
frequented.  Farther  inquiry  informed  me,  that  this  was  the  appointed 
evening  for  what  was  intended  to  be  the  most  brilliant  soiree  of  the 
.season.  '  > 

To  attend  scenes  of  this  sort,  I  had  not  only  begun  to.find  weari- 
some, but  the  sight  of  pleasure  around  me,  in  which  I  alone  seemed 
an  uninterested  spectator,  filled  mc  'with  the  profoundest  melan- 
choly. •  Nevertheless,  I  felt  an  eager  craving  for  companionship  • 
and  although  knowing  that  I  could  promise>  myself  no  enjoyment, 
and  that,  on  the  score  of  happiness,  I  had,  perhaps,  better  remain 
awa  y,  I  yet  determined  to  go. 

The  night  was  already  far  advanced,  but  I  hastily  made  what 
changes  in  my  costume  fashion  rendered  imperative,  and  was  soon 
on  my  waiy,  guided  by  the  melting,  vohiptubus  strains  of  music. 

It  was  a  rapid  waltz,  the  band  was  playing  as  1  entered,  so, lively 
and  exciting  that  it  might  have  .invoked  Terpsichore,  herself,  to  the 
scene.  Youth  and  'beauty  were  seething,  surging  and  undulating 
in  a  vortex  of  gaiety,  and  anon  would  subside  into  calmer  revolu- 
tions around  the  central  suns  of  grace  and  loveliness. 

I  was  looking  on,  more  interested  and  moved  than  I  had  reason 
to  expect;  something  of  jouthful  impulse  rising  within  me,  when 
a  form  flitted  by,  whose  movements  were,  to  the  other  dancers,  what 
the  walk  of  j-Eneas'  goddess  mother  was  to  ordinary  mortal.?.  Vainly 
I  tried  to  escape  from  the  old  memories  which  were-jiwakened  with- 
in, and  which  I  had  thought  were  long  since  consigned  to  oblivion. 
I  wandered  around  from  one  room  to  another,  and  wolild  ever 
return  to  gaze,  unnoticed,  as  if  fascinated  by  some  Circean  spell. 
At  length,  heated  by  the  hot  air,  and  preferring  the  soft  light  of  tjie 
moon  to  the  gaa'ish  lights  within,  I  passed  into  the  illuminated. gar- 
Jens,  and  wandered  through  the  groves  of  orange,  citron  and  mag- 
nolia.    Then  I  sat  down  by  a  fountain,  which  threw  hi  ah  in  air  a 


GLARIMONDE.  <)n 

slender  stream  ol'  spray,  and  sought  to  shut  out,  in  the  murmur  ol' 
its  fall,  the  sounds  of  revehy  which  crept  through  the  perfume- 
laden  trees..     .      , 

r  had  not  been  long  in  my  .retreat  before,  my  mournful  reveries 
were  interrupted  by  approaching  footsteps.  Anxious  only  to  escape, 
[hurried  down  a  narrow,  winding  walk,  and  was  moving  hastily 
away.  Suddenly,  without  premonition  or  warning,  I  came  face  to 
face  upon  one  who  seemed  to  have  wandered,  herself,  a  little  apart 
i'rom  the  rest  of  her  party.  I  would  have  passed  on,  but  happening 
to  raise  my  eyes,  1  involuntarily  exclaimed — 

"Clarimondel". 

*^ Oscar!     Do  we  really  once  more  meet'/" 

Then  there  was  an  abrupt  pause.  I  was  the  first  to  recover  from 
my  embaira^ir.ent,  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  to  regain  my  pride. 

''  Tou  seem  'to  have  lost  youV  c?cort,  Mademoiselle,  will  ymi  allow 
me  to  be  of  any  service  ?"•  I  ventured  .to  remark,  with*  as  much 
coldness  as  I  could  ab'sume. 

She  made  a  slight  gesture  of  refusal ;  but  perceiving  that  I  was 
in  the  act  of  moving  on,  she  'placed  herself  in  my  path. 

"  Stay' — we  were  once  friends.  Will. you  resent  my  interference 
in  your  affairs?  You  cannot  continue  to  live  long  a;?  you  do  now  ! 
Your  very  existence  is  becoming  only  a" question  of  time.  Is  it  too 
late  to  warn  you,  Oscar  ?"  * 

■  "  It  is  not  much  to  pardon  your  interest  in  my  weli'are.  As  to 
its  doing  me  any  good,  frankly,  I  fear  not.  1  have  neither  the 
inclination  nor  the  res.olution  to  effect  any  lasting  change.  But  it 
is  you,  after  all;  unconsciolisly,  doubtless,- tliat  has  made  my  life  si> 
purposeless.  Need  I  tell  you  of  the  power  of  a  gifted  and  beauti- 
ful woman  ?  It  will  do  no  good,  but  you  must  hear  me  now,  Clari- 
monde.^I  was  blessed  with  the  gifts  that  men  most  prize,  when  I 
first  mfet  you,  and  not  least  among  them, 'a  disposition  which  would 
have  found  contentment  in  any  Idt.  It  is  all  sadly  changed  now. 
The  last  ingredient  is  poured  into  the  chemistV  retort,  and  what 
was  clear  as  crystal  before,  becomes  muddied  and  discolor-ed.  Ah, 
unrequited  love  was  the  subtle  essence  thatdias  so  changed  the  cuj) 
oi*  hap})inefc^s  for  me.     Yes,  I  had  learned  to  love  you,  Clariinonde ; 


66  CLARIMONDE. 

thougQ  why  should  I  say,  had  learned,  when  my  passion  was  of  a 
moment,  and  had  no  slow  cojimencement?" 

''And  you  blame  me  for  all  this?"  said  Clarimondc,  with  a  sad 
smile.  *'  You  cannot  t^omplain  that  I  ever  led  you  on  by  word  or 
act.  You  knew  me  to  be  the  betrothed  of  another.  The  lover  that 
sighed  for  an  angel  deserved  to  die  for  his  folly.  Be  jus; — I.gi»'e 
you  no  cause.  It  ^as  all  your  own  fault — that  is,  if  I  have  so  des-' 
perately  bewitched  you  as  you  would  have  appear." 

"  But,  Clarimonde,  can  we  reason  thus  coldly  when  the  passions 
are  enlisted  ?  When  we  love,  it  is  easy  to  deceive  ourselves  with 
the  mirage  of  hope.  To  quote  an  old  simile,  the  poor  moth,  whose 
wings  have  been  singed,  does  none  the  less  hover  around  the  flame. 
Y^ou  are  the  bright  light  around  which  my  poor  h(^rt  has  been 
fluttering,  and  the  warning  comestoo  late."* 

She  hesitated  some  moments  Jjefore  replying,  and  her  arm  now 
rested  tenderly  upon  mine. 

''Are  you  quite  sure,  Oscar,  that  others  have  not  been  exposed 
to  trials  besides  yourself?  Are  not;  most  of  us  at  each  other's 
mercy  ?  But  it  depends  upon  ourselves  whether  we  become  better 
or  worse — whelher  we  nobly  struggle  with  a  wild  impulse,  or  basely 
abandon  the  path   of  duty.      You   have   suffered  ?    so   have   I." 

As  she  concluded,  her  voice  died  out  in  cadences  so  soft  as  to  be 
almost  undistinguishable  from  the  murmur  of  the  fountain. 

In  the  trembling  accents  and  yielding  form,  together  with  the 
words  she  had  just  spoken,  I  read  what  I  had  never  dared  previ- 
ously to  hope,  and  I  gained  courage  to  say — 

"  Tell  me,  Clarimonde,  that  you  do  not  intend  to  marry  this  man 
tij  whom  you  were  then  affianced.  The  engagement  was  the  act 
of  others,  not  yours.     1  need  not  say  you  do  not  love  him  T' 

*^Nay,  Oscar^  you  were  unjust  before  ;  now  your  questi^i  is  un- 
fair. To  answer  you,  however,  my  family  thinks  our  marriage  has 
been  delayed  too  long  already,  and  is  anxious  ior  its  immediate  ful- 
.filment." 

"  And  you  consent  to  be  thus  disposed  of?" 

"  There  are  obstacles  and  embarrassments  which  will  render  it 
difficult  for  rac  to  do  otherwise.     And  the  mere" continuance  of  our 


OLAKIMONDE. 


6T 


engagement,  for  so  long  a  period,  naturally  binds  us  together  by  a 
thousand  unseen  chords  which  are  difficult  to  break.  Indeed,  I 
much  fear  it  will  bo  impossible." 

/^Then,  good-bye,  Clarimonde,  we  had  better  part.     I  wish  you  a- 
great  deal  of  happiness  in  youi*  marriage/^ 

''  Do  not  leave  me  yet/'  said  she,  gently  detaiining  mo.  ''We  must 
not  part  thus  !  0  !  Oscar,  if" — .  But  there  was  no  need  for  her 
to  finish  the  sentence,  I  answered  it  before  it  was  spoken,  by  fold- 
ing her  in  my  arms.  * 

But  even  in  that  moment,  when  every  line  ki  ftfer  face  was  elo- 
quent with  her  now  revealed  secret,  she  still  forbore  committing 
herself  finally ;  but  bidding, me  hope  for  the  best,  and  come  on  tlie 
morrow  to  hear  her  decision,  she  released  herself  from  my  arm  and 
hastened  away. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1  remained  where  she  had  left  me,  framing  good  resolutions,  and 
indulging  glorious  dreams  for  the  future  ;  but  from  this  revery  I  was 
aroused  by  a  well  known  voice;  it  was  in  the  conventional,  impas- 
sive tone,  in  which  yon  could  feel  that  not  a  muscle  of  the  speaker's 
face  moved,  and  which,  for  its  cold,  sarcastic  and  sneering  expres- 
sion, might  havebeen  that  of  M.ephistopholes  himself 

I*  A  beautiful  night  and  enchanting  scenery,  but  may  1  interrupt 
your  reverie  for  a  moment?  I  have  a  few  words  to  address 
to  yoti — nay,  you  need  not  look  so  proud.'  Others  are  looking  at  us, 
who,  if  they  cannot  hear,  can  at  least  see.  Will  it  please  you  to 
smoke  a  cigar?  You  cannot  help  looking  amiable  under  its  influ- 
ence.'' '  . 

"I  find  both  of  your  proposals  very  reasonable,  M.  D'Armas^" 
tsaid  I,  knowing  well  enough  in  what  direction  the  conversation 
tended.  •  "  . 

^^Then,"  continued  my  companion,  "I  have  not  foun'd  your  con- 
duct in  all  respects  that  of  an  honorable  mag.  You  have  seen  fit  to 
tbrce  the  lady  whom  I  am  shortly  to  marry  into  a  very  long  inter- 
view.   Need  !■  explain  my  wishes  farther,  mon  ami?" 

He  said  this  in  a  tune  of  voice  as  if  he  was  really  addressing  a 
friend.  .       .  * 

"Sest  assured   that  your  meaning  is  perfectly  understood,  M.  • 
D'Armas.    Have  you  anything  farther  to  propose?" 

"  Oh,  Tiothing;  "  (with  a  slight  shrug  of  his  shoulders.)  But  it 
is  now  very  near  daybreak — do  you  not  find  that  the  most  delightful 
portio*  of  the  day  ?/'  . 

"  Lndoubtedly ;  it  certainly  is  very  .pleasant  at  times  to  brush 
away  the  early  dew  in  the  company  of  a  friend." 

'^Do  you  see  the  iiiend  whom  you  would  like  to  have  attend 
you?"      ._    .  • 

"None;  t,here  arc  not  many  witnesses  needed,  and  any  man,  of 
honor  whom  you  jnay  name,  will  be  equally  ugreeable  to  me."  • 


iJLAKIMuNDK.  •'•' 

'^So  be  it;  I  believe  that  we  arc  about  equal  in  the  pistol  gallery, 
aud  if  anything  that  you  ring  the  bell — "    ' 

"  We  will  uQt  quarrel  as  to  the  terms — arrange  them  as  you 
•will."  •         .    ^ 

"  Then,  if  everything  is  settled,  we  will  both  of  us  remain  at  the 
soiree.  Jawbones,  the  surgeon,  shall  be  our  mutual  friend,  and  we 
will  keep  our  counsel  while  he  goes  after  the  pistols.'* 

*'  Once,  again  I  arm  quite  at  your  service  as  to  any  dispositions 
you  may'make/"  was  my  r#ply,  and  we  moved  off  in  different  direc' 
tions. 

In  a  little  while  afterwards  we  proceeded  to  the  appointed  ground 
together,  and  as  the  grey  light  of  the  dawn  was  still  indistinct,  and 
as.  neither  of  us  were -particular  as  to  distance,  we  stood  at  considera-  • 
bly  less  interval  than  the  conventional  twelve  paces.     The  word  of   . 
fire   was  given,  a  simultaneous  report  followed,  and   my  adversary  - 
dropped  to  the  ground.     Then  followed  a  hasty  examination  by  the  * 
Doctor  over  the  body  of  my  now  prostrate  foe,  and  the  professionnl 
shako  of  the  liead,  which  obviated  any  further  inquiry.  *  , 

"  I  am  afraid-  it  is  all  over  with  me^'  31.  D' Armas  murmured  in 
his  usual  calm  tone  of  voice.  ."  I  leave  you,  Monsieur,  in  possession 
of  the  field;  lam  in  good  hands  here  with  the  Doctor;  you  have 
but  little  time — save  yourself  if  you  can."  -    . 

I  was  obliged  to  admit  to  myself  that  th^  caution  appean^d  well 
,  timed,  as  a  party,  attracted  .by  the  explosion  of  arms,  was  rapidly  ap- 
'proaching.  Bitterly  cursing  my  folly,  I  hastily  left  die  spot,'and  . 
succeeded  in  reaching  a(ttistant  city.  Then  I  sat  down  to  write  an 
account  of  the  affair,  to  Clarimonde,  and  await  what  further  events 
might  transpire.  That  letter,  I' afterwards  learned,- never  reached 
the  place  of  its  j^lestination.  Meanwhile  I  awaited  with  what  pa- 
tience I  could,  the  slow  passage  of  each  succeeding  day,  until  days 
had  lengthened  into  weeks.  After  six  weeks'  absence,  I  could  en- 
dure it  no  longer.  My  encounter  with  my  late  adversary  I  began  < 
to  regard  as  some  freak  of  my  imagination,* and  I  determined  to  re- 
turn to  the  scene  of  my  Ibrmer  haunts,  at  any  and  every  hazard. 
On  my  way  home  I  was  detained  by  a  steamboat  explosion,  arid 
•once,  for  a  still  longer   period,  was  kept  under  arrest  under  the 


70     .  OLARIMONDi:. 

charge  of  being  a  pick-pocket.  But  at  length  I  stupp  .d  once  more 
upon  the  well-known  shore.  I  hurried  a  ong,  fevered  and  agitated, 
like  the  felon  for  whom  I  had  been  mistaken,  in  the  hopes  of  meet- 
ing some  friend,  who  would  relieve  mv  worst  fears.  Then  I  stopped 
to  read  a  paper  which  the  newsboys  were  hawking.  There  was  no 
paragraph  which  immediately  concerned  me,  but  in  it  I  saw  that 
Glarimonde  had,  the  previous  day,  been  bound  in  the  holy  bonds  of 
wedlock  to  Henrk  .The  paper  fell  from  my  hands — I  staggered 
and  remembered  no  more.  , 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

Every  one  must  remeinbcr  the  scourge  whicli  a  few  years  back, 
decimated  our  largest  Southern  city,  in  which  no  labor  was  then 
performed,  except  by  the  chain -gangs,  who  dug  trenches  for  the 
dead,  and  in  which  no  vehicle  moved,  but  the  dead  cart.  All  o^ 
that  dreadful -lime,  when  the  angel  of  death  stalked  through,  th^ 
streets  and  visited  every  nouse,  I  languished  under  the  shadow  of 
the  fell  destroyer. 

Imagine  me  escaping,  after  months  of  sickness,  where  better  and 
strongeir  men  had  gone  to  their  last  resting  place,  and  once  more  re- 
turning to  a  world  with  which  I  had  no  sympathy,  no  interest,  and 
no  pleasant  memories.41  Disease  sometimes  produces  a  healthier  con- 
dition of  the  whole  man,  mentally  and  ph3^sically'— a  more  resolute 
devotion  of  the  faculties  to  some  object- in  life,  but  such  was  not  its 
effect  upon  me. 

Imagine  me  after  a  long  interval  spent  in  traveling,  or  rather  in 
purposeless  wandering,  in  which  the  sight  of  strange  lands  taught 
m^  no  wisdom,  as  once  more  re-entering  one  of  the  old  yellow  coaches 
which  at  that  time  was  the  only  means  of  public  conveyance.  Time 
and  mental  trouble  has  wrought  many  changes  in  me  as  in  most  of 
us,  and  but  few  would  have  recognized  in  me  the  one  who  a  few 
year# previous  had  traveled  over  the  same  road  so  full  of  life  and 
hope.  At  least  its  two  inmates^  and  there  were  two  who  already  oc- 
cupied it — did  not.  * 

They  did  not  know  me,  but  it  reqiiired  little  effort  of  memory  to 
discern  in  the  forms  before  me  my  old  rival,  Henri,  and  Clari- 
monde,  his  wife.  From  the  positions  they  respectively  pccu- 
pied  towards  each  other,  it  were  easy  to  see  that  their  union  had 
not  been  of  the  most  tender  kind.  Henri,  who  occupied. the  whole 
6f  tlie  back  seat  of  the  vehicle,  was  sleeping,  or  affected  to  be  so, 
as  I  entered.     My  only  resource  was  a  seat  by  Clarimonde. 

When  Henri  at  length  opened  his  eyes,  he  appeared  to  be  exam- 
iaing  ray  features  attentively,  though  with  furtive  glances,  afi  if  en- 


9 

72  fLAKlMONDE. 

deavoriug  to  recall  some  Jong  forgotten  face.  Then  turning  to  Clari- 
nioude  he  languidly  observed  in  French. 

".Do  you  know,  Madame,  of  whom  our  companion  reminds  iney 

A  gesture  in  the  negative  was  her  reply.  ' , 

"  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  certain  expression  about  our  new  friend'p 
face,  which  it  seems  to  me,  we  ouijht  both  to  remember.  Jom,  if  I 
mistake  not,  enterttftned  for  the  prototype,,  more  than  a  passing 
fancy;  /remember  it,  because  he,  whom  this  persoii  resembles, 
came  near  inflicting  on  me  a  dangerous  pistol-shot  wound. 

"  Indeed  I  you  have  never  seen  fit  to  emighten  me  with  that  por- 
tion of  your  history,"  was  hei;  reply,  in  a  tone  of  voice  in  which  she 
did  not  altogether  succeed,  in  disguising  her  interest. 

'•  Why,  yes,"  you  remember  the  soiree  of  Madame  Zambelli  ?  It 
was  towards  the  close  of  the  evening,  that  we  chanced  to  meet,-  and 
to  tell  the  truth,  the  subject  of  our  convers^ion  and  the  cause  of 
our  disagreement  and  encounter  was  naught  else  than  your  fair  self 
You  see  then,  ma  c/icre,"  he  continued  in  his  soft  moQking  laugh, 
^Hhat  underrate  me  as  you  will,  I  thought  you  a  prize  wotth  strug- 
gling  for,  for  Heaven  knows  I  bore  the  youth  no  malice,  except  that 
his  claims  appeared  to  be  preferred  to  mine." 

"  And  yotir  subsequent  meeting — two  such  reported  shots,  aqd 
fighting  for  so  great  a  prize  as  you  represent  me,  there  might  have 
been  danger.     People  are  sometimes  killed  in  duels^  are  they  not  ?" 

"  Undoubetly.  And  so  it  might  have  been  so  with  us,  had  not  the 
sole  friend  who  attended  us,  obviated  the  difficulty,  by  loading  our 
pistols  only  with  powder.  The  afi'air  took  place  in  the  gray  of 
early  morning.  At  the  first  discharge  I  fell,  as  the  attending  sur- 
geon asserted,  and  my  antagonist  believed,  mortally  wounded.' 
A  crowd  was  gathering — ^the  boat  in  which  we  had  crossfed  the 
river  was  about  to  return,  and  everything  indicated  that  unless  my 
opponent  \>^ished  to  be  arrested  under  a  charge  of  murder,  he  had 
better  be  taking  a  t^porary  departure  from  the  city.  The  rest  you, 
already  know.  Before  he  eould  return,  or  make  any  satisfactory  ex- 
planation of  his  conduct,  you  had  listened  to  reason,  and  made  me 
the  happiest  of  men." 

The  last  remark,  which  was  intended  as  a  triumphant  sneer, 


CLAKIMONDE. 


brought  the  blood  to  Clarimoiido's  face,  but  she  only  complained  of 
sickness  and  begged  Henri  to  throw  away  his  cigar. 

^'  Will  your  sex  never  grow  reconciled  to  tobacco  ?  You  certain- 
ly do  not  expect  me  to  throw  away  such  a  Havana  as  this— better 
ride  with  the  driver,  and  submit  to  the  temporary  losrf  of  your  conv 
puny.  I  leave  you  in  charge  of  our  new  friend,  (speaking  for  the 
first  time  in  English)  with  the  hope  that  you  may  be^more  interest- 
ed in  his  company,  thap  you  generally  are  in  mine."  Here  he 
closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  mounted  on  the  box  by  the  side  of 

the  driver. 

I  never  doubted  for  a  moment  that  Clarimonde  knew  me,  "yet  for 
severalln in utes  after  we  were  thus  unexpectedly  left  ulonc,we  sat 
trembling  in  silence,  in  the  growing  shadows  of  the  evening. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me,  Clarimonde— have  you  indeed  forgotten 
me  r  I  ventured  xit  length  to  murmur.  But  she  gave  no  audibk 
sign  that  she  heard  me. 

'<  You  have  just  heard  the  cause  of  what  would  otherwise  seem 
inexplicable  in  my  conduct.  I  left  you  suddenly,  but  I  was  driven 
away  by  circumstances  which  I  could  not  control;  fate,  not  my  will, 
forced  us  apart." 

"  Ti'  so,  why  not  accept  her  decrees,  kindly  and  at  once  ?  You 
should  not  havo  forced  this  interview,  Oscar.  Our  threads  of  life 
were  woven  in  different  woofs ;  they  were  not  intended  to  unite  and 
mingle. .  Eetter  forget  the  past,  and  travel  our  separate  ways  in 
life.     Better  indeed  we  had  never  met." 

"Ohance  has  brought^us  together,  Ckrimonde,  as  unexpectedly 
to  me  a&  to  you.  Have  you  no  kind  word  of  greeting?  Do  act 
reason  thus  ^Idly,  but  remember  you  have  now  in  your  presence, 
perhaps  for 'the  last  time,  one  whose  history,  every  motive  of  action 
and  greatest  misfortune  might  be  comprehended  in  the  words,  Hr 
loved  If ou." 

. "  Ah  !  Os(?a-r,  why  speak-  of  this  now  ?  What  good  will  it  do 
either  of  us,  or  to  what  can  it  lead '?  It  will  but  make  the  dreadful 
return  to  a  weary,  every  day  life  still  morg  insupportable.  Let  us 
rather  encourage  each  other  in  the  path  of  duty  by  parting  »t 
ouce." 


74  CLAliIMO^'DE. 

She  tried  to  look  the  words  «bc  ypoke,  but  i'rom  her  moistened 
lids,  and  humbling  voice,  she  was  evidently  ?<truggling.  as  much 
with  herself,  as  answering  me. 

"Tell  me,  at  letist,"  said  I,  beginning  to  feel  my  power,  and  mad- 
dened by  the  remembrance  of  the  cheat  which  Henri  had  himself 
exposed,  tell  me.  that  the  love  which  con-^umes  me,  is  not  altogether 
forgotten  by  you  ?  I  do  not  ask  you  to  withdraw  any  love  from 
him,  whoso  name  you  bear.  That  you  never  gave  liinj,  and  I  need 
not  your  words  for  what  I  know  already." 

^'  No,  no  !  I  am  unwell — leave  me."  And  then  in  a  softer  tone 
— "  had  you  still  retained  one  loving  i^emembrance  of  me,  Oscar, 
you  could  not,  sitUatad  as  wc  now  are,  thus  entreat  me." 

"I  tempt  you  to  no  wrong;  sympathy,  companionship  in  trouble, 
is  all  I  ask.  Does  it  make  you  the  worse  to  know,  that  1  still  love 
and  admire  your  many  charming  qualities?  Would  it  render  me 
in  life  less  useful,  or  my  future  more  barren,  to  know  that  your  eyes 
were  sometimes  moistened  with  pity  for  me?  'I  v,rill  leave  you, 
then.'' 

"  What  you  ask  should  not  be  spoken  ;  nay,  is  impossible." 

"  The  coach  is  approaching  the.  end  of  the  jouVney ;  no  other  an- 
swer ?  " 

"  All  that  I  could  tell  you,  you  know  alread}^,"  she  at  length  said 
with  an  effort. 
,  "  For  pity,  Clarimonde  I     One  tender  word,  before  wc  part." 

"There'xS  not  an  hour,  Oscar,  since  last  we  miet,  in  which  you 
have  been  absent  froni  my  thoughts.  I  wept  for  you  when  awako, 
and  sleeping  my  mind  was  none  the  less  .busy  with  your  image. 
Once  more  to  meet  you,  1  prayed,  and  yet  1  tremUed  with  appre- 
hension at  every  shadow,  lest  my  fondest  wish  should  be  realizedwt 
And  now  that  we  have  met,  Oscar" 

"  You  would  havfe  me  leave  you ;"  and  I  folded  her  in  my  arms. 
''  I^et  us  fly  from  the  world  and  remember  the  past,  only  as  a  dream." 

She  released  herself  from  my  embrace,  but  did  not  reply.  But 
in  her  face,  t  yead  no  resistance;  only  the  admission  of  her  weak- 
ness, and  a  piteous  appeal  for  mercy. 

The  coach  now  drew  up^  at  a  wa^oide  hotel,  and  L  withdrew  with 


0    ARUMUNDI;.  «;j 

• 

my  fellow  travellers,  to  pass  the  ulglit  in  forming  plans  of  action 
for  the  morrow.  Long  I  mused  over  the  unexpected  encounter-of 
the  day— of  the  man  who  had  embittered  and  rendered  useless  my 
life;  and  I  smiled  proudly  at  his  coming  humiliation.  Then  too 
the  possession  of  the  woman  of  whom  it  had  been  the  business  of 
half  my  life  to  dream — was  it  not  a  sufficient  motive  of  itself,  to 
urge  me  on  to  action.     ~ 

But  the  other  side  of  the  picture  !  To  think  of  her  I  had  known 
from  childhoi)d,  with  whose  name,  the  few  good  deeds,  and  motives 
of  my  life  had  been  associated — the  innocent  days  of  her  maiden- 
hood— her  brilliant  advent  into  society  and  present  position— could 
I  really  forget  all  this,  and  ask  her  to  shjice  the  fortune  of  one  who 
had  nothing  to  look  forward  to  in  the  future  ? 

Between  these  4wo  courses  of  action — honor  and  principle  on  one 
side,  and  present  happiness  on  the  other,  did  my  good  and  evil 
genii  w^age  a  doubtful  strife,  and  fiercely  ^ontend  for  the  mastery. 
The  soft  light  of  morning,  growing  out  of  the  darkness,  found  mo 
still  thus  engaged — and  then  was  heard  the  notes  of  the  bugle, 
announcing  the  departure  of  the  stage. 

It  was  now  too  late  to  hesitate,  and  yet  a  dozen  times  did  I. has- 
tily move  towards  the^  door,  .and  then  return.  "  Farewell,"  at 
length,  I  exclaimed,  summoning  all  my  more  generous  impulses  to 
my  aid.  "  With  the  fulfilment  of  your  wishes,  depart  all  hopes  of 
happiness  for  me." 

Here  Henri  and  Clarimonde  entered  the  coach,  the  door  closed, 
and  the  vehicle  moved  slowly  away.  Ikit  ere  they  had  disappeared 
from  my  view,  for  what  I  regarded  as  forever,  J  caught  from  my 
window  Clarimonde's  glance,  and  waved  her  a  ^d  adieu.  ^I'he 
movement  was  responded  to,  and  I  saw  from  her  half  mournful  look 
that  my  motives  were  understood  and  respected.  Then  the  driver 
lashed  his  horses,  the  light  glistened  on  the  rapidly  turning  wheels, 
and  Clarimoude  in  the  cumbrous  coach,  disappeared  in  a  long  Vinh 
of  dust. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  abrupt  ending  of  our  friend's  narrative  was  occasioned  by 
the  entrance  of  the.  relief  guard.  The  story,  we  had  begun  to  find, 
somewhat  of  the  longest,  and  a  frequent  yawning  and  stretching  of 
arms,  by  which  the  restless  testified  their  impatience,  may  have  had 
some  influence  in  hastening  its  close. 

"  You  don't  talk  often,  Oscar,  but  by  Judas,  you  do  spin  it  out 
long  when  you  get  under  way.  D — n  such  a  man;  come,  let's  have 
a  farewell  pull  at  the  canteer^— ^I'm  afraid  that  yarn  of  yours  will 
sit  a  little  cold — and  then  to  bed." 

We  lost  no  time  in  putting  both  proposals  into  execution,  and 
moved  towards  our  quarters,  judt  aS  Aurora,  fair  shepherdess,  was 
driving  before  her,  her  flock,  of  stars. 

But  a  stries  of  military  movements  were  now  transpiring,  which 
soon  banished  all  thoughts  of  sleep,  or  lesser  cares,  from  our  minds. 
►Soon  there  sped  up  in  mid  air  a  rocket,  vrhich  we  rightly  regarded 
as  a  portent  of  coming  dangers  and  battles.  This,  in  turn,  was  sue* 
ceeded  by  the  distant  booming  of  cannon ;  and  as  the  da^  advanced, 
a  dense  pillar  of  smoke-,  like  a  black  stain,  was  seen  in  the  eastern 
horizon. 

The  long  roll  was  sounded  throughout  camp ;  baggage  was  hastily 
packed  and  sent  to  the  rear,  and  the  troops  marched  oft'  to  meet  tlie 
foe.  *  , 

As  regiment  af^  regiment  hurried  ofi"  to  take  the  pQsitions  as- 
signed to  them,  signs  of  the  coming  struggle  become  still  more  per- 
ceptible. The  roads  were  covered  with  wagons,  driving  furiously 
to  the  rear,  and  with  wounded  soldiers,  who  had  already  been 
stricken  down  in  the  preliminary  encounters,  who  were  now.  being 
conveyed  in  ambulances  to  the  hospitals.  But '  occasionally,  con- 
founded in  the  ruder  throng,  were  to  be  seen  fugitive  families, 
mothers  with  their  children,  and  sometimes,  too,  those  of  the  weaker 
sex,  whose  dress  and  appearance,  in  spite  of  the  dust  and  wildness 
of  their  situation,  indicated  a  more  tender  nurture. 


TLARIMONDE.  .    '  U 

For  several  days  -vve  stood  in  constant  readiness  for  an  attack  by 
the  enemy.  The  heat  was  almost  unendurable,  and  the  men  were 
compelled  to  sit  down  in  ranks,  or  stretch  their  exhausted  forms  in 
the  shade  of  the  neighboring  trees.  Kations  were  rarely  dis- 
tributed, and  seldom  consisted  of  more  than  hard  bread.  Our 
greatest  sufferings  were,  however,  occasioned  by  the  scarcity  or  dif- 
ficulty of  obtaining  water ;  and  if  one  of  us  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
obta;n  a  canteen  of  the  precious  fluid,  it  was  a  rare  proof  of  friend- 
ship when  its  contents  were  divided  with  a  suffering  comrade. 

At  night  we  would  lie  down  in  the  chilly  dews,  and  would  sink 
to  sleep  recalling  the  past  and  wondering  what  changes  were  re- 
served for  us  in  the  future.  80  that,  in  many  cases,  the  last  con- 
Tersation  we  were  toliave  with  many  old  friends,  was  while  cowering 
beneath  the  rain,  and  under  one  and  the  same  blanket. 

At  length  the  morning  of  the  great  battle-  came,  and  we  could 
see  the  light  gleaming  upon  the  pieces  of  a  distant  battery  of  the 
•nemy,  as  .it  rapidly  wheeled  into  position,  fhen  a  wreath  of 
smoke  curled  slowly  into  the  air,  followed  by  a  breathless  silence  of 
a  few  seconds,  and  then,  as. a  large  shot  whizzed  over  our  heads,  wc 
heard  the  sound  produced  by  the  firing  of  the  first  gun. 

It  is  not  necessary,  at  this  late  day,  to  enter  into  a  general  de- 
scripti'on  of  the  battle,  or  of  any  of  the  movements  oif  the  two 
armies.  Our  regiment  found  itself,  owing  to  the  necessities  of  war, 
or,'  as  we  then  thought,  to  some  egregious  error,  placed  far  in  ad- 
vance of  any  support,  and  where  our  destruction  or  capture,  seemed 
inevitable. '  But  every  one  engaged  •seemed  to  accept  it  as  h'm 
destiny,  and  though  doubtful  and  distrustful  o^thc  usefulness  of 
the  sacrifice,  remained  at  his  post  until  ordered  off  the  field. 

Division  after  division  of  the  enemy  had  been  brought  against 
us,  and  the  struggle  had  gone  on,  increasing  in  deadly  intensity, 
until  their  whole  force  seemed  converging  on  the  wo6d  we  occupied, 
and  broke  upon  us  like  an  armed  wave.  80  that  amid  the  blinding 
smoke,  the  shower  of  iron  hail,  to  which  we  were  exposed,  the  ine- 
qualities of  the  ground,  and  the  dense  growth  of  shrubbery,  it. 
became  impossible  to  understand  the  commands.  Companies  were 
separated  from  each  other,  and  friend  undistinguisliable  from  foe.. 


16  '-  J.AKIMONDE. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  I  saw  St.  Arment,  who  was  fighting 
by  my  side,  affected  with  apparent  emotion,  and  gazing  earnestly  at 
some  one  in  the  opposing  ranks. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  comrade  ?  do  you  find  the  bullets  incon- 
veniently plentiful  ?"  ■        - 

''  They  have  as  little  terror  as  life  has  charms  for  me.  But  do 
you  see  the  officer -who  is  advancing  towards  us,  at  the  head  of  his 
men?"' 

"  Not  well.     But  who  is  he  ?" 

"  My  old  friend,  Henri,  with  whom  I  have  still  an  account  to  set- 
tle. I'will  point  him  out  with  my  musket,"  at  the  same  time  taking 
deliberate  aim. 

But  before  I  could  hear  the  report  of  his  gun,  a  volley  from 
along  the  enemy's  whole  line  was  poured  into  us,  and  I  saw  my  com- 
panion stagger  and  fall.  There  was  little  time,  in  that  moment,  to 
regard  the  dead  or  dying  j  nevertheless,  I  ventured  to  drag  him 
under  the  shade  of  a  neighboring  tree.  The  blood  was  flowing 
freely  from  his  wound,  and  unless  soon  staunched,  I  feared  he  would 
not  long  survive.  But  T  heard  the  cry,  "rally  to  your  colors," 
from  our  brave  leader,  und  I  could  remain  no  longer.  I  hastily, 
placed  him,  in  a  sitting  posture,  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  with 
his  revolver  and  my  canteen  at  his  side,  in  case  of  need,  and  bade 
him  a  sorrowful  farewell. 

}:  ,k  ^.  *  rpjjg  contest  had  ceased ;  victor  and  vanquished  had 
passed  on,  and  the  dead  and  dying  remained  possessors  of  the  field. 
r  myself  had,  at  a  Inter  hour,  been  wounded  and  left  behind,  and 
crawling  into  thof  thick(?st  part  of  the  shrubbery,  L  determined  tu 
lie  concealed  until  I  could  gain  some  tidings  of  the  battle,  or  could 
escape  in  the  obscurity  of  night.  When  at  length  the  time  came, 
when  I  thought  it  would  be  safe  to  move,  I  concluded  to  pass  tlit* 
spot  where  I  had  last  seen  my  wounded  friend. 

But  the  task  of  returning  to  the  exact  spot,  was  one  of  no  easy 
accomplishment,  and  I  soon  found  it  almost  impossible  to  move  with- 
out treading  upon  the  body  of  some  mangled  corpse,  or  of  wretches 
whose  hour  wa<<  only  postponed,  hoarsely  begging  for  water.  And 
here  it  was  ca.sy  to  be  seen,  that  amid^  the  thousand  faces  of  pros- 


CLARlMOiNDK. 


79 


trate  foes,  there  was  none  with  th^t  resolute,  unyielding  expression, 
,  which  Pyrrhus  so  much  admired  in  his  fallen  Romj^n  adversaries, 
but  only  one  of  intense  horror. 

Finally,  beginning  to  despair  of  ever  more  seeing  Oscar,  I  was 
mentally  determining  to  abandon  the  search,  when  my  attention  was 
rivetted  by  the  fluttering  of  a  woman's  dress.  Well  knowing  that 
she  must  be  one  of  the  nurses,  who  came  to  tend  the  sick  and 
wounded,  and  hoping  that  from  her  I  might  learn  the  information 
I  sought,  I  hastily  drew  near. 

One  more  corpse  I  had  to  pass,  and  that  I  recognized  as  the 
ofiicer  whom  Oscar  had  pointed  out  to  me  in  the  morning  as  Henri ; 
and  near  this,  his  lifetime  rival,  lay  Oscar  St.  Arment— their  blood 
refusing  to  mingle,  although  so  close  together— while  bending  over 
him,  and  supporting  his  drooping  head  upon  her  breast,  knelt  her 
whose  dress  had  first  attracted  mj  attention. 

No  need  to  inquire  who  she  was— no  guilt  in  loving  her  now, 
Oscar;  for  without  having  any  premonition  of  her  presence,  I 
knew  that  the  kneeling  figure,  now  before  me,  could  be  none  other 
than  his  long-lost,  but  always  loved,  Clarimondc.  ^ 


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